Nearby Café Home > Love & Lust > David Steinberg

Recent Comments

    Search the blog:

    Categories

    Archives

    All content of the blog David Steinberg is © copyright 1992-2015 by David Steinberg unless otherwise noted. All materials contained on this site are protected by United States copyright law and may not be reproduced for commercial purposes without prior written permission. All photos copyright by the individual photographers. "Fair use" allows quotation of excerpts of textual material from this site for educational and other noncommercial purposes. Published by Flying Dragon LLC.

    Powered by FeedBurner

    Neither David Steinberg nor Flying Dragon LLC are responsible for the content of external Internet sites to which this blog links.

    Maybe it’s because it’s five o’clock

     

    Maybe it’s because it’s five o’clock

    and I’ve been sitting still all day.

    Maybe it’s the coffee and the sweet roll.

    Maybe it’s the door pried open in me,

    reading Anne Sexton and Barbara Farabee.

    But when you come in

    my senses are open wide,

    and as we talk

    smiles keep taking over my […]

    Come night, be welcome

     

    Come night, be welcome.

    Your peace speaks gentleness,

    your closeness an inner warmth.

    Come curl around my shoulders,

    bring your fog if you like.

    Together we’ll sip moonlight,

    listen to the wind, and follow

    wherever the darkness may lead.

    Phoenix Song

     

     

    How shall I live without you

    without being who I have been,

    without the shelter of these walls

    now darkened into a cell?

     

    I have worked so hard to build this temple

    only to find that my gods have changed.

     

    So much has been built […]

    Poetry Poem

     

    Slowly, cautiously

    like a wild animal

    curious yet afraid

    instinct of the heart

    against instinct of the hunter

    the spirit of poetry stalks the edge

    of my campfire’s circle of light.

     

    I see you there, prowling,

    restless,

    while I stare blankly

    into the fire

    pretending […]

    Purple is the color of the longing

     

    Purple is the color of the longing,

    tucked into the folds of pulpy organs

    soft and vulnerable.

    A finger could pierce like a bullet

    this swollen pulse.

    An uncaring touch would tear to pieces

    the soft fiber of its nest.

     

    Defenseless it hides

    in the soft warm dark

    safe and alone,

    and dreams […]