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patrick-s-rhombergPoems
Sometimes, I get to feeling so wound up, Like an antique clock with a nervous tick and an arrhythmic tock. A metronome with an off-center weight, My  --  first and third beats always a  --  rriving late. Like that top E string when it's strung too high, I shake, 'til on a strong downbeat, beat down I break, snapping in a moment that passes too quickly to see. But the last note I sang, that reverberating twang, my cry out: though broken, I'm finally free.
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Dec 16, 2012
Dec 16, 2012 at 9:34 PM UTC
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Sometimes, I get to feeling so wound up, Like an antique clock with a nervous tick and an arrhythmic tock. A metronome with an off-center weight, My  --  first and third beats always a  --  rriving late. Like that top E string when it's strung too high, I shake, 'til on a strong downbeat, beat down I break, snapping in a moment that passes too quickly to see. But the last note I sang, that reverberating twang, my cry out: though broken, I'm finally free.
patrick-s-rhomberg
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patrick-s-rhomberg
Dec 16, 2012
Dec 16, 2012 at 9:34 PM UTC
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