stop writing already,

6 1 0
                                    

and the world
becomes a poem
that no one's writing down

when it's 11:54 pm
in the middle of nowhere
some coat is waiting

he's a humming blue star
spinning like a dinner plate
in an empty kitchen

a lifeless solar system
which our telescopes
can't see

(untitled) -- a collection of experimental poetry [COMPLETE]Where stories live. Discover now