“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Showing posts with label none. Show all posts
Showing posts with label none. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 14, 2016
Rhymes with Bucket
As an echo gargles the ells
Is that All
I've got
given it _ All-
-pulled back, squint in-
-tensed up-
Un-wound,
I begin to see specifically
out of line
drops
in
the bucket...
...
..
.
By the way: (I lost sight of mine
I, me-I, me, mine
and All those
hollow no's)
Enough is Enough
to go around
for each of us plus
it's All superfluous.
Half-full, half-baked,
half-witi-schism-
wrung wry
and completely empty I be,
sufficiently still sere here
unilaterally.
Image By FOTO:Fortepan — ID 92566: Adományozó/Donor : Unknown. [Public domain or Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
And then...
Change is like that strong smell of cut grass or chopped wood that stops you still. Patterns, a symbol can be an illegible sign, at first...
-
1. Of my Soul a street is: Preternatural Pic- abian tricktrickclickflidk-er garner of starfish Picasso...
-
Today seems like a good day to burn a bridge or two. The sky resembles a backlit canopy with holes punched in it. In California...
-
This world is not for breath for feelings also come and go. As hard and light as Push and pull Go. Busy hands and bees-electricity, alter...