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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 3891 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention A Man Who Writes Poems Brian Berkshire is playing in the dark 5,10,15,20 it is late and he is tired 25,30 he has lain spooning alongside the periphery of things. he has touched the rough hewn backs of chairs, the corseted lining black insides of closets 35,40,45 he has lounged with spiders behind the barcalounger couched in silence. stilled, his rivening breathing still betrays 55,60,65 he has been found pretending he might blend with rich patterns of oak panels, with the sheer opacity of silk curtains, beneath the masks and costumes, dying 70,75 to ape a curve of shadow 80,85 he has slid into the obvious spaces between, or under he has hid behind his own hands 90 now he stands before a mirror opens and closes 95 his eyes dissolve and release 100 the shuttered image turns and returns ready or not and he is gone again here I come to seek the place where the other is |
