Thursday, April 23, 2009

Black Eye, Fat Lip, Gas-Station Doghouse Roses

Randomly you occur to me;
during rain against the skylight
or seepage in the crawlspace,
During February, May or days bright
Your fingers swift to the dimmer switch.
Maybe you see me in the grocery line:
drowning in debt or gourmet coffee-beans,
my tears, or the vague drownings that fill
my lungs daily like slot machines
and find me heavy with coinage
anchored by fortune

1 comment:

Steph R said...

Dear Intagliod,

Can you teach me how to write poems again?