MONDAYS

27thNov. × ’11

The quiet morning starts again
its darkness claiming even noise
in New York people sleep temporarily

The weekend like closed tubes of paint
suffocates in bottles while stained dishes pile high
dislocated speaker sounds strewn about

A runner mid-stride frantic for ground
energized over-hurdle high
repeatedly we decide to refurbish
half steps strewn about

The day cannot have its way with us
we are here
amidst the elements

This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. Post a comment or leave a trackback: Trackback URL.

Post a Comment

Your email is never published nor shared. Required fields are marked *

*
*