the needle ought not peg left
the last time that the greenery took its water
the last time that the greenery smoked its flavor fully
the last time that the smoke rolled upwards from the water mark
the last time that hoves of people spoke to the father
the last time that idle birds knew their fate
but this pessimism is full of incorrections
and this pessimism is full of misunderstanding
that this morning the air cant hold your breath
that this week cant hold your needs
that this is clamor for failure to participate in the harvest
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
As deep as the ocean.
Melissa
Melissa
May 18, 2009 at 5:20 pm
This poem is excellent. I really enjoyed it.
The Belated Eloquence of the Inarticulate
May 18, 2009 at 5:20 pm