An army of square lights on the ceiling.
My destiny is sandwich with no filling.
Two thin slices. Side-by-side. Both white.
I've longed to taste tapas my whole life.
Even to dip my bread in egg would suffice.
Well, Christ, I'll take a trip to the bakery!
A crusty loaf would remain in the teeth
and granary could easily plant a seed.
En route in the street, I spot a biblical treat.
It's a mouthful from the Mahershalalhashbaz
company. They rebranded after a decade
selling acclaimed hand-made paintings.
In dense writing was their message to me...
Immerse my head in the still night air of June,
where the moonlight is hidden behind a tree.
Sep 24, 2020
Sep 24, 2020 at 2:37 PM UTC
An army of square lights on the ceiling.
My destiny is sandwich with no filling.
Two thin slices. Side-by-side. Both white.
I've longed to taste tapas my whole life.
Even to dip my bread in egg would suffice.
Well, Christ, I'll take a trip to the bakery!
A crusty loaf would remain in the teeth
and granary could easily plant a seed.
En route in the street, I spot a biblical treat.
It's a mouthful from the Mahershalalhashbaz
company. They rebranded after a decade
selling acclaimed hand-made paintings.
In dense writing was their message to me...
Immerse my head in the still night air of June,
where the moonlight is hidden behind a tree.
Poem #19 from my collection 'A Shropshire Grad'. On the subject of pseudonyms and stage names. Inspired by Mahershala Ali.
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