Thursday, May 24, 2012
empty clouds
each blue line is a savage
and if its hungry mouth is empty
it does not eat today and I starve.
but are you grateful to have my
possessive tattooed words on your tongue,
you gnashing savage? most often not.
and it causes this wretched pain,
like a thorn in each toe,
and I can only pilgrim by
walking, no one will have me on
their back.
I question empty clouds,
"why is there no rain today?"
"why did you forget to bring the rain?"
"how could you forget again?
"you never remember anything..."
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Tickle your toes. . .
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RICK: Hey Rick? DICK: Yea, Dick? RICK: See that sky roll on by? (points) DICK: ...Oh, my... RICK: Don't i-t'almost makes yer wanner.... -
lean in a little. say it like it's a secret. make your breath sound like italics. click your tongue against the roof your mouth then you...
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and now that the anger is gone there may be a few more glimpses like looking out of the window through a thin veil of silk. a look in...
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confession is all: it is what my poetry is, and that is my life.
Poets United Contributor
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