Hey guys, I was going to post a new picture poem, but my stupid internet connection is dancing on my intentions. So...something else.
who so dances
a line of emerald painted gypsies
away their clothing and place it upon telephone
I have yet to become the bright
bottle parading in
the end of the shadowy boulevard.
there are places we have yet to go;
are clocks left unwound and dangerous;
are empty suitcases resting
atop kitchen counters.
attention, attention. we are leaving the city tonight. we will be wicked and we will be brave. those in the lamplight will beware. we will ride past them as we take to the bridges and the back alleys. the night will not end; we will become forever.
A Plumbers Nightmare
1 year ago