Wednesday, August 3, 2016

Ink

Ink

If we follow the path between me 
and you it will be paved in ink not gold. 
The viscous swirls in blue or black
sketch meaning, etched with red. 
We edit our conversations to death,
as guilt sinks into our pages
and we ask how this has happened. 



2 comments:

Rebecca Ladbrook said...

'we edit our conversations to death' - never a truer sentence said! Nice work, poetry buddy :-)

Rebecca Ladbrook said...

Ink

i stumbled across
a river of your light and
curious words here

This is after an exhibition at an ethnographic museum in Paris where you walked over a constant stream of words projected on a black floor.