Hi. Said orange pants.

Start by running. Then wait.

I pause like a stalk of celery.

I scream handshakes of troubled poems.

The crocuses are coming.

Poem like fingerprints
On the much used glass.

Poem in capital letters
Finishes its plate.

Poem. The twisted antlers of the sea.
Brought home a sandwich of lost sidewalks.

If I have said any truths
It was not in any poem.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s