Nursed by the current
Hides with the tide
I hide, inside
Love's own deterrent
Lost in direction
Feels without touch
I feel, as much
Sorrow's infection
Lone star in action
Shines, but not bright
Nothing feels right
Hollow attraction
Soft, like a pillow
Tosses and turns
Fantasy yearns
Dreams, like a billow
Tears on a table
Dropping and clear
No one will hear
Love's twisted fable
Sea on the corral
Waves on the sand
I know where I stand
A drone
A drift
A rift
Alone
Love's twisted moral.
PUBLICATION: The Crier, Vol. 34, No. 5, April 14, 1997, Corning Community College.
HISTORY: During the Summer of '96, I bought most of Phish's
studio albums. Hence, I was listening to a lot of Phish, and this
poem was probably a result of that.
Since the April 14 issue of The Crier already had two of
my poems inside of it, I credited this third one (which appeared
on the front cover) to R.J. Sadbac.
R.J. is a wonderful person who transcribed
"Canned Ham Island", and
is credited as a co-star in my "Gay Cops"
film.
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