January - the calender is flipped to.
with it, an image of red, bloated tomatoes
creeping in pregnant clusters across the page.
my books are sprawled across the desk
like nomads in search of a home.
the earpieces have cords that are entangled and
immersed in its messy and inextricable life.
my phone sits silently and unproductive
depleting its fruitless existence away.
and here too i sit under the whirring fan
watching these objects help tell my story.
even the tomatoes are productive this january.
Jan 2, 2012
Jan 2, 2012 at 8:32 AM UTC
January - the calender is flipped to.
with it, an image of red, bloated tomatoes
creeping in pregnant clusters across the page.
my books are sprawled across the desk
like nomads in search of a home.
the earpieces have cords that are entangled and
immersed in its messy and inextricable life.
my phone sits silently and unproductive
depleting its fruitless existence away.
and here too i sit under the whirring fan
watching these objects help tell my story.
even the tomatoes are productive this january.
This could seem a tad random. Written with the help of some sort of 'poetry exercise'.
Even the tomatoes are productive and yet I sit here unproductive, indeed.
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