Quiet silence

Body as foreign country,
landless,
the sounds of sirens,
voices in the dazed,
darkness,
of my missingness,
bones numbed to a stillness,
a
silenced
quietness


in response to I :)

On beauty and posterity

I would write a poem to beauty
but
a soul is of the surface
not
life is much more magical
and comical and tragical
:)
The hope
when we are gray
and youth has gone it's way
that
the mirror will tell a tale
of a fully balanced scale
on skin lines of truth
not scars of lost youth
Aging is not a slow bleed but a ripening.