A Quantum and Rye Sandwich

Even if, and this is
Stretching it, besides,
Where are wild
Flowers, some as tall
As parking meters?

Sunlight, lost
In the blinds, even so,
Why are all my
Poems so random?

Just as well,
The moon is famished,
Fathom-weary,
Just look at me, it says,
I am dust and stone!

You don’t say? As for me,
A quantum and rye sandwich
In glasses.

A flaneur with the zeal
Of an amateur zine.

4 thoughts on “A Quantum and Rye Sandwich

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