the sieve and the sand

Leaving the wheat with the chaff. This is not your mother’s poetry.

picking the sand from my eye
awaking to find the morning
even more disgusting than
the weather man could have possibly
guessed

Be the first to like this post.

Filed Under: poetry

Enter your comment here...

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

Email (required) (Address never made public)

Name (required)

Website

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out / Change )

You are commenting using your Twitter account. ( Log Out / Change )

You are commenting using your Facebook account. ( Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s