Jim Trainer


In poem, Poetry, Uncategorized on May 19, 2016 at 11:35 pm

igneous father the sun becomes
less sure of himself in the thrall of time
vainglorious and cocksure heads
worn to nubs on their smug neck
the throne and the cell, winged and webbed skin
faded, worn down, rubbed out
your wild song of youth and love
cradled and carried away by arms of the sky
high walls of the citadel calcified and broken
stone hands of the idol ferried to dust
the marvel of time is that it shears us
of the burden and the reward
frees us from prisons of desire
peels us from the grip of love


  1. Fantastic; I absolutely adored this. I was going to pick out some favorite lines, but, really they’re all winners. … Buuut… if I had to choose, those last four are simply devastating.

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