they'll get better, i promise!!!
-
Winter’s giving out its poor largesse
and I write poems everywhere,
sluggishly, gumming up tissues with humors,
skin raw as new iron.
All the little claw-trees gesture
hung with fitful lights,
and all night I sit in a drafty room
watching the girls pass on the salted street.
Showing posts with label poem 84. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poem 84. Show all posts
Friday, December 11, 2009
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
