“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Sunday, March 5, 2017
3/3: Whole (again)
5 years past, Today
-found myself hiding in seas
of Carribean toxicity
5 short years, 1 long day to
morrow my bones fold back in
stratagems to the shale, or osteo-psychosis
5 diagnoses, desperation diseases
rampantly trying to stuff wholes,
fill up cold blanks with liquid heat
5 cycles, I find
myself-Welcoming fresh air
respiring It
5 forms of matter, liquid, gas
solid, vapor, and...
some one to sense
5 nickles make cents, part of
one quarter of one whole dollar
broken down to small change(s).
Point zero five of
one life, 5 years I began
living this real life, embracing the cool
elements.
Pastel by István Nagy [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Half-dozen Mud cakes
Back to wood decks, quarter-size spiders, webs, moss and creatures stirring in the hollow nights Back to no side-walks and skirting into th...
-
1. Of my Soul a street is: Preternatural Pic- abian tricktrickclickflidk-er garner of starfish Picasso...
-
I have served between eight and twenty-five thousand meals for my family, I make coffee for them more than once per day, equatin...
-
Lies About Love by D.H. Lawrence (1885-1930) We are all liars, because the truth of yesterday becomes a lie tomorrow, wherea...
No comments:
Post a Comment