|clouds crushed against the sky
unfold of me and cry for the lonely boy,
the flower spent into the shredder
taking a shower and fully
clothed, awake yet visceral
as the dream which brought
him to this place.
I write this for the tears
you cannot witness through the
wall you cannot touch,
for the wretched sobbing
you pan out;
and fly away
. . .
5 Jul 08
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nice take on perspective.
seems innovative to me. the way you split it up. and other things. good work.
thanks for reading listen
I have been thinking that maybe I should just keep the first 16 lines and get rid of the rest...thoughts?
exactly what i thought when i read this.
keep the first 16 lines.
at times the ... tells all... i am intrigued please do continue
I in poem, and inside a tired stomach
and wanting. more from these words,
that is what I expect
and pain for
that gross and muddled
or vaporized like a dove
I can be sure of both
my place and starting point,
as they crash into
like a baby and a second-hand pram.
a diffidence to irony is all the world
can hope to teach us,
I learn; the television is
--ok, well, originally that is what followed the "..."
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