I knew a poet once.
He was the top of a tall mountain
of all the best words.
Fighting.
His words were a war
against social injustice
of all times.
His face was beautiful
with scars and lines
that remembered
every battle.
There was Issa, and a bowl of soup.
I remember the fly that buzzed
in the windshield
and tears behind sunglasses.
Why do poets set
like suns?
Jan 31, 2017
Jan 31, 2017 at 8:45 AM UTC
I knew a poet once.
He was the top of a tall mountain
of all the best words.
Fighting.
His words were a war
against social injustice
of all times.
His face was beautiful
with scars and lines
that remembered
every battle.
There was Issa, and a bowl of soup.
I remember the fly that buzzed
in the windshield
and tears behind sunglasses.
Why do poets set
like suns?
