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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Personal · #611044
A look at the circle.
Standard, simple.
Hearing first the sounds,
spilling what we cannot see.
From paint to chalk to
gold plated pens, taxes due
and checkbook glory.
Disney, Niagara Falls in
summer zoom, the mind
chemical-clean as college acid,
we booze in autumn gloom
with tired rain, from
black Mercedes to
wheelchair
to crawling drool;
spilling what we cannot see,
hearing last the sounds.
Standard, simple.
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Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/611044-Cyclic