spinal run

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  • It Was Only Then Pain Mad

    spinal run

     the pain,
    was not pain,
    in the main,
    till it climbed the spine,
    and ran up there in mind,
    it hit a spot ,
    and from there distributed it got,
    it was only then pain made him whine.

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    Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

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    ecrit’s Poems (11)

    Title Comments Submitted
    Title Comments Submitted
    what I chewed last night 0 12/18/2010
    I know not who I am 0 10/22/2009
    this poor star called sun. 0 10/22/2009
    bright sun 0 10/22/2009
    Green 0 10/22/2009
    spinal run 0 10/22/2009
    solitude talk 0 10/22/2009
    The Cage I am in 1 09/22/2009
    Departure Pangs 2 09/21/2009
    Ascent to Heaven or Heaven's Descent 1 09/21/2009
    Aromas of her bake 0 09/21/2009
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