Joy comes interlaced with pain Everywhere we are, or go; Golden childhood tales contain Match girls dying in the snow — All we think to say, or feel, Frozen days by sunlight graced — Bricks and mortar of what’s real: Joy and pain are Interlaced
hot soft the water runs in mist, the mirrors folded in a cloud; as towel-bedraped and lensless, i, still cut and scraped from law and crowd, come in. and there one precious is – a music like a new perfume, a crystal glass filled up with years, a still-that bride for yet-my groom — like … Continue reading "like silk"
In every direction.
(For those who might not know - the photo is of an old game called "Jacks", and those things really hurt to step on in your bare feet. - Owen)
It picks you up and throws you down It kicks your can all over town It likes to make you think it’s gone Then waylay you on your front lawn It waits in alleys patiently To jump out unexpectedly And slap you with its velvet glove Yes, you, sir – have been mugged by love
Pain Is the only voice audible In a room filled with people