Friday, June 6, 2008
NOTHING BLUES
I got no problem saying nothing.
It’s on the tip of my tongue, down
to the Isle of Sunder.
I got no problem saying nothing.
It’ll keep me company,
like no other.
I got no problem saying nothing.
With seeds split wide,
and no place to gather.
I got no problem saying nothing.
A wet, black bough
gasping in the ether.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
-
LONG PLAYING The just-past-full moon parsed and dissected by black tree branches and a screen window open to a taut Spring chill on t...
No comments:
Post a Comment