Tuesday, November 15, 2005

Worn

I return to tired anger
as if it were a
heel rolled
hole soled
broken backed shoe
scarred far
beyond any remnant comfort
but with
old contours
familiar enough
that I imagine it still fits
as long as I
pay only habitual inattention
as I slip it
witlessly on.

6 comments:

Fingers said...

I like old ragged shoes much more than anger. Okay, I admit, this is hardly in context and says nothing about the poem.

coyote said...

I agree, though -- old shoes are better than anger. But both'll hurt you in unseen places.

Fingers said...

Yes, Wise one, you speaketh the truth.
My love for my old shoes, however, shall not be shaken from it's roots.

Blechh...bad bad day. bad bad rhyme etc.
Apologies.

Fingers said...

Sleepyhead ends the day by reading 'You are dreamreal'. What a nice way to end the day.
(fade out)





By the way, this word verification wakes me up, each night just before I close my eyes to sleep..

coyote said...

Annoying, isn't it? But waaayyy better than that nasty blog spam. Good night...

Fingers said...

True.