I can walk in to
the same damn
conversation
three days out of
the week,
but even after
hearing the same
stupid arguments
over and over and
over and over and
over again,
I still have no idea
what we’re yelling about.
Day: February 19, 2009
autumn remains
poetrypiles of wet leaves
burn a subtle orange sheen
in this winter rain.
you live above the earth
poetrycage that free bird
you
miniature man
lock him up
business is good
they bring you
things on silver
platters
nevermind that
you could pick
those berries
yourself
nevermind the
virtue of patience,
staring at the
earth from your
plush palace,
a few aesthetic
degrees of separation
for comfort.
the sieve and the sand 