Half Drunk Muse Poetry

From the Archives...

carver’s bones

what my hands
want to do is plunge
into the white light

wash themselves
clean of poetry while
carver’s bones crawl the floor
in search of a perfect
word

and what is it
we try to say to each other
in these moments of
silence?

how many afternoons did we
waste stoned
while the baby slept?

remember

i have seen you buried beneath
mountains of regret

i have walked the hill of
fifteen crosses
without feeling the presence
of god
but the fault may be mine

each day wants to
spill across the fields
colder than the one before
and when there’s nothing
left to burn
all we’ll have is love

this is not a fate i
recognize as my own

Submitted by John Sweet Published in All Poems 1999-2004

About HDM

Half Drunk Muse was one of the first poetry ezines. It was founded in 1999 and ceased publication in 2006.

Questions/comments? Email samiller@halfdrunkmuse.com.