SETTLED
BACK
I am reading Hart Crane at the
window's edge. Near by, the sill
holds my coffee cup. Adhering to
no logic, we somehow together ride
the soaring seagull's wake on up to
that broad and ravaging bridge. I find so
many words and phrases here to be just
right. I settle in, like a bedlamite?
Stars scribble on my eyes the frosty
sagas. It is getting late, and I am
headed now towards the dark
of night, past evening.
No comments:
Post a Comment