Saturday, July 23, 2011

terrible things

I've been too afraid of your window
beaming gray into the night
my night like mid-afternoon sun 100
degrees we melt the earth with our stare
our feet jogging-- incoherently mumbling on
corner of nowhere Broad Street and 7-11
is a building a farce a herald of the dead
selling pretzels until 24 hours is up
and there's nothing left but poems and poets
endless words saying saying tell us be us love us tell us
terrible things

No comments:

Post a Comment