in the crack we hop
over lack we stop
you stir, I stir, we blur
the illusion of texture is strong
we could argue long
your high cut collar rages: cigarettes, NEON lights, lost wages
I sleep with crumbs and dumbs and sympathy
what I lack is all I need
forthwith we tip, with thrill you spill
with caution, I hide in the sea
layers of depth, like space on land
I float and transform to me
I titled this poem 222 as an ode to Henry David Thoreau. Thoreau spent two years, two months and two days at Walden Pond. His writings there inspire those who read them to find the beauty in their own surroundings.
ReplyDeleteBrooklyn is my current Walden Pond.