For if the world
is a bell
ringing
in the emptiness
of a letter.
Words
Are the
rinds of
otherworldly fruit
swollen
in my throat.
Then what
creature, sprite
or, phantom?
rings the doorbell
and is gone.
when i come
to scribble
the crumbs
of poems
upon an
empty porch
drinking moonlight.
Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 11:03 AM UTC
For if the world
is a bell
ringing
in the emptiness
of a letter.
Words
Are the
rinds of
otherworldly fruit
swollen
in my throat.
Then what
creature, sprite
or, phantom?
rings the doorbell
and is gone.
when i come
to scribble
the crumbs
of poems
upon an
empty porch
drinking moonlight.
