A.g. Synclair

I never told you about the night I died
how I left and came back without my coat
apples floated in barrels just above the trees
the dimming sky shed its winter madness
I watched you curl into yourself like a wave
in a place where assassins bear fruit
and scatter seeds where nothing grows.

©2012 This work is the property of the author.

Posted on November 25, 2012, in A.g. Synclair, POETRY and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. 5 Comments.

  1. I like this second poem from A.g. Synclair. It has a fever.

    Read his first poem here:

  2. I like it, I find myself falling forward and backward simultaneously in this piece.

  3. A vibrant imagery that inwardly has an uncanny life voice and vision of calm idealistic wisdom and a storehouse of knowledgeable discernment and great skilled dissent, and an outward description with an enjambed absent self invention reflecting the sad, haunting and passionate despair of the desperate in which we become absorbed.

  4. There is a poem in every line of this poem!

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