Remember
when we met
by that corner of a disguise
talking with the stillness
that is common to oil
it was an early October blizzard
that trapped us before
we’ve identified our inertia
locked in that cold
with a bottle of vodka and
letters from Rilke
we drank the last drop
of our nihilism
ready to die there
or live on perpetually
with no sense at all.
Nihilist Poet
This entry was posted on October 27, 2009 at 6:40 am and is filed under Poetry with tags english poetry, poem, meaninglessness, nihilism, death, die, poems, live, absurd poetry, nihilistic poetry, ars poetica, pablo saborio vargas, nihilistic poems, contemporary poetry, modern poem, senseless poetry, nihilist poet, rilke, vodka, inertia, Rilke letters, eternal life, senseless, disguise. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed
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