Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
May 2010
I'm an infant
crawling with unformed senses from arm to arm
ready to be mystified if I knew the meaning of the word
Feeling the curves and dimensions of the world
of its curious things with lips and fumbling fingers
Green as a rye mold
and my dreams are hallucinations brought on by its consumption
Written by
Charles Berlin
820
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems