• Samuel Valentine

poem #2. d e * t h

Updated: May 25, 2019

With soft animal angles and ankle bones We deteriorate.  A contract in invisible ink. Origin unknown. Sleep distinctly lacking, explicit in its absence. Your soft animal angles and ankle bone. 

Recent Posts

See All

extinction looms naught else but kindness in the face of death still, saintly tending her growing dead their shadows are longer on every setting sun with half of life already gone

I go from having few keys, to having lots, to having few. The more doors I can unlock, the less I look at the world. I've got fewer keys now.

It’s like I was born to be broken up with. I wear ear plugs on public transport now. In quietude As I read Sylvia Plath and gently sob on the N207 to Holborn. Or earlier; In Memorium, a poem I’ve know