Friday, July 29, 2011

the night the poems

came by to say

hello

the walls were stained mellow with

grief

and bottle of curdled wine,

dusty with dead spiders

sat about like memories best

forgotten.
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1 comment:

  1. ShoonyataJuly 30, 2011 at 11:08 PM

    you missed the ceiling,
    where exploding smoke rings
    had made cracks
    for spiders to hide in packs
    .
    i blow
    There for
    i exist
    .

    ReplyDelete

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