images (12)




snatched from the wings of halcyon

carried by proud neuron

tattooed as effigy on gray

cast to the sand and tide

honed to igneous edge

etched deep in dark recess

by double-edged sword

left to ooze eternal


ever the cruel harlequin

evil sleight of hand

images once dear

fade as fashion

others untimely revenant

indelible reminders

of forgotten fatuity


pain’s bloody footprint


harsh remnant of sutured self

time’s impish accomplice

defiler of sacred image

leaving bits and pieces

glued together with loving care

placed in glass case

and adored on rainy day


About Phil

Hi, my name is Phil. I’ve managed to escape the corporate world, rid myself of excess belongings, travel the country extensively in my old Winnebago, and find a new home on a beautiful barrier island in the Gulf of Mexico. I define myself as: a free spirit, a writer, a philosophical anarchist, a poet; a lover of nature, a lover of art, a protector of animals, as well as a devoted friend and partner
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4 Responses to Sutures

  1. Paulina Angela says:

    I can see your wound


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