here comes
another
dead summer
days of the weak
a scorching permanent
school night
how can I
consume so much
and still be this blank?
turned off by figs
and other beautiful things
in this courtyard
turning away
to information
instead
stale shy
yellow ideas
baking
inside my room
a man pushes a bottle of water
in a stroller
headed back from
the contemporary well
No comments:
Post a Comment