Empty bottles in the rabid winter sun
a dangerous cue;
the sometimes somber
melody of exacting light
blisters my nonchalant
parade everyday
is Sunday sipping the oily
fuel of bad things
that come
at night
Jan 19, 2011
Jan 19, 2011 at 5:09 AM UTC
Empty bottles in the rabid winter sun
a dangerous cue;
the sometimes somber
melody of exacting light
blisters my nonchalant
parade everyday
is Sunday sipping the oily
fuel of bad things
that come
at night
Request permission to use this poem