FONT LEAVINGS

always in passing
we skirt periphery
motel
like dust on porcelain
ledge
like soap bar paper
fold

there is a crack in the bricks
where you wait
sunning your curvature
you slip my love
in the break
where darkness waits
pleading words
in flowing tilt
uplifted drag ending
your funny "e's"

remember the slip
of the key
the diamond plastic
tag
Room 304
the warm texture
of our need
slaked like
laundry linen

clothes like forgotten
skins
piled in small
discard like sins

and stepping out for
ice with all the crystal
of heaven shinning
the pot lights gleaming
the neon humming
electronic satisfaction

this cool september
hour
we are awake dreamers
catching hearts
with barren souls

— Esker, Jun 24, 2010

About the Author

Region, Country: north ontario, CAN

Favorite Poets: Klo , .., Ida, .., Rhiannon1010, .., Pleiades, .., Valryianne, .., Ester, .., Stephanie, .., Emina Smajevic, ..., Elefentee, ..., Sommer Lyn, ..., Jasmine, ..., Rula, ...

Critiques

pleiades

16 years 1 month ago

just when i think you

just when i think you can't better a previou, favourite poem, you go and write something like this i am entirely envious of your ability, as a poet, to have such imagery and intent contained in uniquely expressed verse i love, love, love this i mean it e, i'm running out of superlatives "like dust on porcelain ledge like soap bar paper fold"............sheeeeeeeze your first 3 stanzas had me imaging the scenario they tell of the relationship they tell what is then...the last 3 stanzas... e, they just made me melt so intimate, so subtly sensual, and so beautiful really beautiful so often, i use the word beautiful in commenting on your work, but no other word seems as fitting you write of beautiful with a naturalness that tells me of inner emotions and desires...they way you look at things...what your eyes see 'clothes like forgotten skins'...just gorgeous what an image! and the last 5 lines? how i wish they were mine i could read you forever p

Esker

16 years 1 month ago

remember

travelling as a youth by motorcar then as an adult trips Motels exhausted snowstorms rainstorms heat and the airconditioning in modern and ancient places There is nothing like a bar of soap hot water fresh towels An ex lover was in a town near me Lots of brick veneer turn of the centuries mill town on a hill She wrote me little letters and stuck them in the cracks where the mortar was missing hoping that I would find them We still write few but feverish notes and our clothing is our skin our disguise our mask and when we strip this away we are revealed without and Motels so transitory Most people sleep in their homes but Motels are convienience beds meetings trysts sins lonliness Ice machine Pop Machine telephone the muffled bar at the end of the hall the rock music the country music juke box Hearts with barren souls trying to please to connect to escape all the ache thats missing or vacant barren from the fruitless love just the jagged limbs of lust reaching for the sky trying to be something to catch the soul and be a someone even if its so fleeting even if its a strange bed in a strange land

Esker

16 years ago

bird tong

carnivorus canary feeding notes from the slit ribs the bloody warble dripping trills the bright eye thrills that dapple red on yellow sunlit breast sing hidden on the dry thin branch the beak serrated tearing sight from happiness

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