'How We Can Change the Future Together'

entry picture

(May 8th 2015)


That limpid, facile phrase

Purple-edged, wind-bitten, flat

Faced up for passing feet

Eight-thirty AM, outside

The drab closed bookies

This stilled scrap facsimile lies

A just resolution, barren

Torn into four

By hands fed words other than truth

Scattered as the once-flaming candle

Pinched out, dies

Now a mere token for vaguely wandering

Half-tired eyes.

2015New Polemic

◄ Asylum

Village Gothic ►


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