Wednesday, May 12, 2010


CALL ME ISHMAEL


You know why? Because I said so.
If I live long enough to make it to an airport
without losing any oxygen, if I use my mouth
to get me through the front door, sign where
it was dotted, breeze out from whence I came,
I could be a new and wholly invented self-made
man, I could write my own ticket. Yeah, the best
laid plans.

2 comments:

nehoccramcire said...

YEAH! (to the poem AND the picture)

elma said...

Olá...
Que jogo de cores. Belíssimo.
Donna Elma - Brasil

Monsters