a long unkempt smile
told the story in the language of today
the sun is there with its information
but there is no one.
a constellation gave itself a name
but I don’t see an archer
the grass cries green green
with dandelion objections.
there are silent killers amid the peace signs
there are no more gradations
a flat line sentence
with bland emotions
covered in phlegm
with bitter punctuations.
a squirrel chirps at my ears
demanding a poetic handout
a handful of nuts.
a lone counter with his beans
on Euclid Avenue and East 55th Street
waits for the guy
who will tell him when
the time is right
to spill his vomit
on an apathetic avenue
and yawn into god’s eye.
scatter now, child.
Scatter.
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this brings many scenes to mind, very nice work, wish i could write like this
thank you. don’t wish to write like that, wish to write. you are posting poems, which means that is what you wish to do. keep doing it.
thanks for the encouragement, will do