..which is to say they've been scrawled onto slips of paper and forgotten somewhere.
somebody really ought to think
why the brick's so quick to sink
somewhere somehow in my mind
i see non-bricks behaving in kind
---
to fly and fall than to deny and stall.
---
brandishing poetry like a knife ground sharp
i inked the words angled smart
like a scalpel across bleached flesh
language begun with a dissonant slash
---
cocooned in self-pity some moths i see
i marvelled at their shell's intricacy
how they protect themselves in their prison
how a cage is also their halcyon
a transitional time within their weavings
are they in pain or are they sleeping
studied patience or unwilling imprisonment
i cannot guess so i watch in silence
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment