Rain falls hard and bird-calls go unheeded
as I sit indoors cradling cup-of-soup.
What I scribble I ball and bin, begin
to stroke and curl slowly, something adream
in the letters that link and dot and gap
drift and shift - adjusting a snug duvet,
tormented by a phone alarm that chops
up the sleep approaching it to slivers.
Early to rise will do to fling girders,
take a child barred from transport in to school -
caught in the rush hour suffer in return -
but the mind's a thrum-numb cement mixer
Wherein the lost zeds (or zees overseas),
Parade and cha cha, chatter, yawn and gape.
..
YOU ARE READING
Bare Shouldered
Poesia"The difference of high Sensations with and without knowledge appears to me this - in the latter case we are falling continually ten thousand fathoms deep and being blown up again without wings and with all [the] horror of a bare shouldered Creature...
