every body has its secrets like a sun that isn’t where it ought to be a palm tree is nothing short of revelation an apostrophe of limbs, a confession spray painted on a window-- matter is the genesis of form the slow iteration of a Sunday afternoon the epistemology of traffic lights is an exodus of meaning a look without looking a parachute that falls on its face this body, my body: a machine among stars a French inhale the end, a philanthrope the kind of love-making that tilts pianos
Grafitti in the Dark
The Used Life 
9 responses to “Grafitti in the Dark”
That last line brings to life the movement of this poem!
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Thank you so much! Im happy you enjoyed it.
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A crescendo of ideas that so beautifully brought us to “… love-making / that tilts pianos” 💖 Actually, I fell off the cliff at “a French inhale” Gorgeous! The idea of “order in chaos” came to mind when I read this poem. ✨
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Thank you, Michele! I think “order in chaos” is a great way to read this.😊
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You are welcome. 😊
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So so good..I love “a look without looking a parachute that falls on its face”..and “the kind of love-making
that tilts pianos”..such creative lines that elicit strong emotion. Humans, always capable of living in a way that begs remembrance. Well done.
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Thank you, my friend!
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Wonderful! I love the ending:
the kind of love-making
that tilts pianos
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Thank you so much, Bob!
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