I cannot remember your voice
But your body was special to me,
More valued than the family silver;
Your vagina sweet as a nut
Secreted away by a squirrel:
Your hair a tangled forest
That protected us while we slept.
You clasped my hand in the darkness
Because I was precious to you,
A gift to pack under the coverlet,
And not to write home about.
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
March 29th. 2014.
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Torn Pages. Completed Collage.
The different textures of the materials is what is important along with the placement of the colours.
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If I were a camera I would zoom in directly On winter trees loud with anthracite crows, The ice white ripples on a cold shallow lake; The da... -
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Flicking through pages on my mobile phone I study photos of the summer just gone - Birthday flowers placed in a vase by the ...
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