Poems from T.Cohen
Glass clouded with Hemlock's breath,with a crunch I step untoand revel in the sight of deathso sweet, compared to bitter you.
How come to...
I used to think that all wood was still a tree,alive and strong branches supple and willing to supportleaves, fruit,two little girls...
I think I could keep runningand run right out of my own skinI'd run in circles before I met youand by then you'd barely recognize me.Soon I...
Take a broom and sweep out the corners of your life,the canned anger and tabled debates,strangled tears, old jealousy and resentment.
A new...
The mockingbird has
No cry of its own
Can sing every part
But finds no harmony
Has no seat in the choir
No tree in the woods
A single gray...