His words are gone
Gone
gone
..................
Go tell it
to the proctor:
he's dead again
His fingers
are unresponsive
to ideas
of spring,
(oh! that darling little dear)
change,
in the affirmative,
and protest.
He has only these few words
on his foreskin:
Take me there .
Take me there.
Take me there-
A haiku incomplete
in his left hand's
working fingers.
YOU ARE READING
WORDS ON THE HORIZON
PoésieI present to you my new collection of poems which will be reflective of my present states of mind and compel me to translate my deepest desires and waves of thoughts, brimming with emotions. ...
