Another poem from the past:
Rabbit Hunt
He flickers like a candle flame
Coming to end.
The wild rabbit, wire snared.
Attempts to escape
Bring him closer to death.
His ebony eyes mirror my arrival.
I see his heart laboring in his chest
Livid flecks of blood on his black nose.
He knows nothing of wire
Or of me.
I know nothing of him.
I am not hungry, just
Playing, as he lies dying
I wish he would die, so
I can stop feeling
Frantic and so damn helpless.
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About Me
- roberto kiam borderlineartist@gmail.com
- I live in a quaint, little town, plagued with the specter of speculation and commerce. I am trailer trash,with wishes for good dishes. I shoulda died long ago, but like a rescue dog, didn't. I am indescribably scattered. I speak three languages. I walk a tenuously, true path. I am lucky. For myself, for others. God, it is said, protects orphans, widows and the innocent.
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