Poems from Tom Fulton
Magnificent, her ebb defines the wind.
A soul triumphant marches through the black,
And day is peace because of who she is,
And night is...
I argue with my friends inside my head
In hopes they’ll bring me peace when I am dead.
The trophies they don’t have don’t make me more –
We...
All that we are is a skull without purpose
All that we know is we are who we were.
All we can do in this world without pursose
Is show...
The contingencies we cling to
burst as the wind rushes
like the recently discarded inhibitions
that are swept away with it
No body to receive the energy I seek to leave
Abrasive, abrasive
Confusion follows me
No body to perceive the thoughts that captivate my...