Poem Written While Gazing At A Concrete Wall, Pugging Clay On Mount Dickinson, And Recalling Breakfast With A Poet Friend
feet on the ground
a poem in the clouds
must have flown by
from my mountain perch
birds on the power lines
look like raisin-ettes
hunger drives me!
a poem feeds something
the belly still grumbles
you promised a poem
were those feathers
in your mouth
No comments:
Post a Comment