my mothers eyes
empty on the day
harlem stood still
A Death hath pass here!
Dutch phantoms sizzled under
bounced tortoise ray ban sun rays
and we sat, ties tied, shoes shined,
asses washed.
I'd never been to church,
half read marxist I yell
"opiate of the masses "
now spectrum'd color roasted
bible readers eyeballs
skylights blaze that fire
smores of pupil and iris,
trees of cyrus plums
bruised, thats what her eyes
were, 45 years too young
grammy was a grammy
this way
I wish this were clearer. Often, we mask the subject if it feels too personal or to close to our own experience. Give yourself longer lines, and really try to give us the entire scene here. What I see I admire quite a bit, but it's too clotted as of yet.
ReplyDelete