I wanted to write something about a picture of someone floating in water
Gliding, in and out,
Churned and spat, out,
Chopping, in and in and in and out,
Churned and spat, out
Thrashing, in and out and out and out and out,
Churned and spat, out,
Floating, in and and out,
Churned and spat, churned and spat.
And you close your eyes.
The symphony, the buh-bluup,
The buh-bluup, the conversation of two fish chatting shit,
The mrueh-hurh-hurh-hurh, the kee-hee of a seagull spotting an easy feast,
The whroo, the uuuh-hhrro of a wave relieving sand of its knots.
Floating, in and and out,
Drifting, drifting, drifting,
And everything, and everyone,
Is simple.
YOU ARE READING
Waiting for the Rain to Fall
PoetryPoems that twine thread around the broken bits of a soul, that fling umbrella lips into beaming buckets and kind of just make you want to say, "life is beautiful, isn't it?" - a totally unbiased review from me, the author.
