Litkicks Message Board Archive

sands spilt in my hand

Posted to Action Poetry

to capture time
with reanimation
of when i was young
playin with my brother
in the yard
throwin his G.I. Joe's
into my pit of fire
then when i was twelve and
watched my father die
in front of my eyes
the hospital room
where he was left
by trained physicians
to breath out his
last few breaths
all white and insterile
in my child eyes
smellin what isn't clean
what is death
when i i turn thirty and
i am more than i was now
older with a beard
on the beaches in some
exotic land
lettin the beach play
with my wettin toes
warm and comfortin as i know
that something is comin
i pick up sand
and am back here
on the computer
with the sun touchin my arm
and my neck
listenin to anything box
waitin for time
to break and
catapult me into
streams between
where i can say here i am