Chris Taljaard
My dear,
Find what you love and let it kill you. Let it drain from you your all. Let it cling onto your back and weigh you down into eventual nothingness. Let it kill you, and let it devour your remains. For all things will kill you, both slowly and fastly, but it’s much better to be killed by a lover.
Falsely yours,
Henry Charles Bukowski
A moth, quivering
2015-10-19"Desperately/ He distorted his vision/ And read between edges/ His eyes began to bleed."
Through realms of scattered verse
2013-11-27"Through realms of scattered verse
I lead processions in a pale hearse
of images of penultimate
rapture"
Hello there, kettle
2013-10-23"Kettle, could you forgive me
if I were to call you black?
You see, in you lies my story
reflected, burning, back"
Should this catharsis contain some portent
2013-10-23"Should this catharsis contain some portent,
purport or potential politick;
should it conform to some shape and indent-
ation to be poetic rhetoric?"