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cody-edwardsPoems
There's little more to do for that solitary image. A brown house on an off-brown background. The door stopped closing right nearly ten years ago. She sits at the single table eating the brown dust like a baby's song, cooing to herself. Cooing to the walls. And stopping to stretch her muted fingers. He sleeps. A deserved sleep. Better than propped dry against the outside wall, marshaled hands still en deshabille. All that stuff was his wife's or his father's. It fetched a nice enough price all the same, and where antiquity fails the wise man speeds off with a whistle. Funny tune, but it's better than what the wife murmurs. Oh my, one almost forgets. There was a boy as well, but he left long ago, must have been nearly twelve or so years ago, when the sun was high as now. Though truth be told, he was one of those poor ******** that exercised theory and let practice starve; let action gather dirt and whipped the thoughts to breathe in still more dust. One would say they raised him right enough and still be wrong. The day he closed that door on them, they just stood still kinda watching as the wind blew them along.
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Feb 16, 2010
Feb 16, 2010 at 6:21 PM UTC
Found Objects
There's little more to do for that solitary image. A brown house on an off-brown background. The door stopped closing right nearly ten years ago. She sits at the single table eating the brown dust like a baby's song, cooing to herself. Cooing to the walls. And stopping to stretch her muted fingers. He sleeps. A deserved sleep. Better than propped dry against the outside wall, marshaled hands still en deshabille. All that stuff was his wife's or his father's. It fetched a nice enough price all the same, and where antiquity fails the wise man speeds off with a whistle. Funny tune, but it's better than what the wife murmurs. Oh my, one almost forgets. There was a boy as well, but he left long ago, must have been nearly twelve or so years ago, when the sun was high as now. Though truth be told, he was one of those poor ******** that exercised theory and let practice starve; let action gather dirt and whipped the thoughts to breathe in still more dust. One would say they raised him right enough and still be wrong. The day he closed that door on them, they just stood still kinda watching as the wind blew them along.
© Cody Edwards 2010
Written by
cody-edwards
American
Feb 16, 2010
Feb 16, 2010 at 6:21 PM UTC
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