please don’t confuse this with poetry,
this is not poetry – but a simple
outburst. a cry of some sort,
but not an actual cry – it seems
my mind does not understand my mind.
i’ll see my eyes but not know
it as my eyes. and i’ll witness
love but not know it is love.
blessings resolve at the hem
of my heels like mold on a
foreign night – why would a man
sacrifice blood for diamonds
just to heighten his understanding
of life is? is probably what life is.
i treat life like life is, i probably
suck at life miss. but don’t think me a heathen
for i breathe the promises of angels
like my lips were the gates of heaven.
and i study the footprints of demons
like they’re leading me to heaven.
i wonder if this outburst is
morse code for haven. do not
call this a poem, but a plea
for an answer. a question of some sort,
but not an actual question.
– in relation to by lj hughes
poetryland 