| extempore |
May 5, 2008 8:53 am
1870 Views |  | incapable
just incapable
of writing a straight sentence
or framing
a coherent phrase
which is a problem
when translating
and the sun is shining
and the outside beckons
like a friend wanting me
to come out to play
and I'm imagining
superpowers
and what I would do
with them
and I'm dreaming
of journeys
like books
and books
like knives
and the swifts scream
in an ecstasy of flight
but the page drags me back
to its drear dead wood
and black marks
like an epitaph
to my life
here he sat
and died
where's my cape?
|
| |
|
44 Comments | |
