Tuesday, October 21, 2008

to address

i want to address the absurdity
of a measurable pleasure

the length of your tongue
against the width of time

and what we use to cover it
when we're not active

in a winter worn room
stained mugs on dusty book jackets

follow the parade of mire
murk and muddle through literature

manuscripts a friend sent
in a big brown envelope

before a late birthday wish
to an artist in Manhattan

1 comment:

ozymandiaz said...

man, do I ever love reading your poetry.