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Tunnel me little shallow reefs
in this trashcan sandbar's core.
Blow away residing flora and fauna
and boat out some shipwreck shack -
a once pearly novelty's sketching,
now only a disfigurement - that lacks
most greenery of balled thought
shells cut, prickled and halved.
Inked coconut leaves glued back
giving a paper sealife cemetery
view. Pencil tips and grammer's disease
feeds and scatters muck higher,
surpassing medicine-man cures. Empty
lead bottles plank walkways
to a tattered Writer’s Book door
blocked by Daily News critic clippings.
Life-drained pens taped together
forming tables with chairs decorate
an inside bare of imagry, allure,
or even rhyme. I cross
the endless paper ocean
to find words to fill them.
 Lovers Never Tell · Thu Jul 24, 2008 @ 09:44am · 0 Comments |
