Poetry

The King’s Observations

The king sits at the edge of the road

dressed in beggar’s clothes

to behold all those who nearly ride him down

without a thought or care for his woes.

 

The king sits at the edge of the road

his finery all to be seen

and notes as his subjects come scurrying by

to ask how best he can be pleased.

 

Poetry

Return

It travels, fire-tongued

through each cell, alight and intense

up into the wilderness that is your eyes.

Its pure crystalline intent

pasted with letters and notes of our future,

a flash of keys,

a suitcase label,

manuscript pages littering the floor among

scribbled workings of code.

The data is transferred in a single,

pulse-racing moment

as our lips touch finally after so long apart.