Sides

Let the poem be organic images. Let the poem
hide its words from itself. A thunderstorm
turns around our house, goes by the window
twice. Then again. It seems to be in love
with the cat’s fear. Things fill up with our
crazy intentions. Eventually, you notice
language is doing the same thing. These
crazy drive-bys it does. And we never
did a thing to it, except maybe encroach
by accident on its alien turf. You can’t
even walk down its street without
taking someone’s side, unawares.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

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

Twitter picture

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

Facebook photo

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

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s