September 30, 2017

(Poems about Objects in Despair 3)



Glass sheets in layers

Ice paper lucid don’t break

A rolling inhale you’re ready

to suck them in or

throw them off with a

steam of sounds a whiff

from the outside world

You’re double, a non

space shift away from

each other, empty between

dirt and concrete, the

mindless spot, the tapping

of feet in elevated thought

no dogs, no skates, no bikes.


Share on Facebook
Share on Twitter
Please reload


June 30, 2019

June 29, 2019

June 27, 2019

June 26, 2019

Please reload