“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Saturday, May 21, 2016
Missed the train
Pistons pop up and pump
left-right-left-in-even-time
while in passing
they debate the state of
why and wheretofore-
Two for-what?
to four? two ate? a double-date?
Wait-it went-two-four-eight
Not too for, but eight
is enough
Past two, past four, not from
Four to eight
four
two
8
or not
via
loco-
motive
One walks
once in a while
by two, by two.
Image by unknown author, c. 1879, [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Gravitas
For every poem I put here, there are four more never shared, around six never written and twenty-seven partially thought out. For every word...

-
1. Of my Soul a street is: Preternatural Pic- abian tricktrickclickflidk-er garner of starfish Picasso...
-
Someone said, the full moon looks larger in the city because of skyscrapers- which said nothing about people feeling smaller, more co...
-
Water Today, warm raindrops glass blurs, the blurry glassy, sharp sparkles sugar. Behind Evening, it was good. Leaves all turned into shadow...
No comments:
Post a Comment