Monday, April 7, 2014

days 5, 6, and 7

my Jamesian "golden shovel"

the word never uttered "their"
no word for the state of relationship
unsure of what their feelings consisted

always searching for the right way in
avoiding the possibility of discussing
the ever hang if
no interest in defining it
grateful that it existed


                                                                                   

clear blue sky
cool spring breeze
possibility shining forth
the monster stirs
from underground
a new face born
from a new hope
found

                                                                                    

pages that smell of dust
dog eared and torn
covers hang loose
a poor man's trash
that leads me to worlds
beyond my own
and teaches lessons
that life alone
cannot




No comments:

Post a Comment