Chloe Lubinska Poems

Latent clocks forge their fraudulent time

But still their rigid works spin
...

A stage, dear stage
how I emphasise you on diminutive plinths and icy depths
The halo of crisp golden tongue
Rotated too much for matters gone wrong
...

I wish I could fly
Watching the wind evolve whirls of dust into
Dunes of fine ash yielded from the earth
We play with their tropic grains
...

Sometimes I catch myself wondering
The plots and twists of day
The murmuring of butterflies
And of them needless to say
...

I see the streets they're feeble
Circulating fright
Like a helicoidal river
Disposing empty lives
...

My eyes pursue the obscure footprint of the sun
'What is it running from? '
My question intercepts
The looming gloom of it's tangled cocoon
...

Knocking nerves fire the door
Submitting faithful embers that erupt
The floor
Though stories innovate lead
...

Creaking whispers evacuating
Interfere legs with sting
A pair of spy buoys bubble bashfully
Crashing life's essence, stealing a beauty fling
...

When horror arises
Fret churns to frame
An ambiguity of wonder
That's not the same
...

Running wild with the sound of you
Is a pleasure for a while
Its a fine slow tune
...