even if she cannot read it

[claracter]

so quiet was the night
dreams writhing in the hollows
me wafting in my sailboat
that always will abruptly
hit the water's edge

eyes open wincingly
(recalling time and place)
to this cocooned, this quiet creature
who's dreamt never of another bed
never of another me.

Comments

as the tides rise and fall

[zeroschism]

is this a claire poem? or does the author wish to remain anonomyous? 'tis very good :)

thoughts to words: an alchemist's errand

[claracter]

A Claire poem indeed--written oh-so casually and with great deference to momentary whim. Prose always entails for me much taxing deliberation and revision; poetry is a respite where my intuition and childish caprice may romp freely. Thinking is a wondrous thing, though at times 'tis best to yield to emotion's antennae, to feel one's way through things and pursue like prey that ridiculous little inkling that rivets one's eye