Sunday, May 15, 2011


It was being said before I even got there.
It was nothing new or memorable or
anything close to sincere from my vantage point.
It was like a thousand tantrums later and
no one was budging from their place in the sandbox.
I remained on the outskirts of the argument.
One more impossible punch to what the moon
had to offer kept me at a safe distance.
It was ribbons to rivers of disrespect in the palms
of unscripted hand signals that had scattered
us all so many elbows ago.
I followed the cat out of particle range and
settled in behind the assets of real poetry.

No comments:

Post a Comment