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.
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
what coyotes talk about...
About Me
The archives are evergreen
- The Elgin Street Irregulars
- The Elgin Street Muse
- Vankleek Hill Photos
- Wakefield Noir
- David Scrimshaw's Blog
- candis sabean
- Coloured Marbles
- The Wading Poole
- taking the brim / archives
- Ottawa Girl
- Outside the Windows
- Babushkas and Anadems
- Delhidreams
- Reality Bytes
- Unguarded Utterance
- Poets who Blog
- The Open Library
- Project Gutenberg
- LibriVox
6 comments:
I like old ragged shoes much more than anger. Okay, I admit, this is hardly in context and says nothing about the poem.
I agree, though -- old shoes are better than anger. But both'll hurt you in unseen places.
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.
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..
Annoying, isn't it? But waaayyy better than that nasty blog spam. Good night...
True.
Post a Comment