the walls
had marks
like wet cement
when the bus
roared in its engine
on the street outside
it made shadows
on the pillow
you tapped my ankle
i laughed
i said there were birds
flying out of my ears
you said
-like the sound of the singing bowl
had marks
like wet cement
when the bus
roared in its engine
on the street outside
it made shadows
on the pillow
you tapped my ankle
i laughed
i said there were birds
flying out of my ears
you said
-like the sound of the singing bowl
I found your blog by accident and I visit it pretty often but I've never commented. I love the way you write-the jerks and the flows in your poems. Anyway I wanted to say hi and that your poems are lovely, also because it feels strange to read them and like them and not say hi.
ReplyDeleteThe Bluest Eye...Rebecca...Gone with the Wind...Dorian Gray...Dead Poets...Those are also some of the things I have loved.
ReplyDeleteThank you for reading me. I just found yours :)