Raziel Moore | Monocle

Braille Burn

In Poem on 14/09/2014 at 3:47 pm

Poor bloodhound that I make
eyes closed or night blind
I can’t find you in the open

Scent finds me only
coaxed from and mixed with touch
nose brushing or buried in you

Inhale to read you
skin
smoke
spice

Fill with your stories my lungs
head
memory

My own only opium
drawn deep to singe in
against coming days of empty air

  1. scent is very sensual and quite intoxicating. i really like this poem, Raz.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: