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little-wrenPoems
Thoughts, like the shadows of clouds That pass below you Pass above me: White heat blaring like telephone wire buzzing, Control box popping Everything I own Has been bleached by the sun. My legs keep up with the crickets Crescendo desiccating the atmosphere Incessant buzzing, that telephone wire. Molecules reverberating around my eye sockets Hollow ear bones click and chatter. There is a language here Unbeknownst to any welded frame Human or just wavelength The last breath of Something we all hope for Transpires on the air-- Air like bathwater. We assume the return of everything. CO2 in our lungs, sleep, the seasons But one day these things will not arrive. One day, Spring will not show up. I can't help but feel I am coming into something.
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Sep 28, 2016
Sep 28, 2016 at 7:47 PM UTC
A Dip in the Ether
Thoughts, like the shadows of clouds That pass below you Pass above me: White heat blaring like telephone wire buzzing, Control box popping Everything I own Has been bleached by the sun. My legs keep up with the crickets Crescendo desiccating the atmosphere Incessant buzzing, that telephone wire. Molecules reverberating around my eye sockets Hollow ear bones click and chatter. There is a language here Unbeknownst to any welded frame Human or just wavelength The last breath of Something we all hope for Transpires on the air-- Air like bathwater. We assume the return of everything. CO2 in our lungs, sleep, the seasons But one day these things will not arrive. One day, Spring will not show up. I can't help but feel I am coming into something.
little-wren
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little-wren
Sep 28, 2016
Sep 28, 2016 at 7:47 PM UTC
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