To Wage a War

By LaBruyere in haiku on

The war I wage with words is endless, beautiful and cursed. The ink, the letter, syllables--they express but they confine. Nevertheless I break the rules; nevertheless I am restrained. What then will be wrought? Will it be beauty, or remain Nothing more than words? postscript For day 2 of This…

T.S. Eliot

By LaBruyere in jabjong on

I remain cold and wooden, blank and dull in the face of giants And the crashing of planets, it stirs not a chill on my spine. How long must storms rage, and the universe tremble before I live? Forced to look on you, I disturb the universe With my pen…