Making It Up

Okay when each ghost
Has said its last hello

Okay lost

Okay peanut butter and dusk sandwiches

Okay the faults

Okay abstract

For the walks I take I begin by the seams

I pitch ideas to the sea

I read The Philosophy of Meteorites, by E M Comet

Okay when the sun turns nova

And like a harp
Shows its guts.

Okay the angels having banished our socks
Leaving us with an odd number of shoes.

Leave a Reply

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

You are commenting using your 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