deepundergroundpoetry.com
12:07am
Oh, how I'm trying to remember what mime said,
no inks in my head to spare,
only holding files open to memorize the thought.
A long drive home of broken pieces of longing and long past,
trinkets holding what blankets gray dust, but none of despair.
And I would look at the moon as I drove
to notice its top is missing,
and then wonder how to describe it to you.
no inks in my head to spare,
only holding files open to memorize the thought.
A long drive home of broken pieces of longing and long past,
trinkets holding what blankets gray dust, but none of despair.
And I would look at the moon as I drove
to notice its top is missing,
and then wonder how to describe it to you.
Published 8th Jun 2015
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comments 7
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Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
8th Jun 2015 4:37am
Strange magic and energy abounds lately. This is another wonderful write. The longing, the remembering (or trying), the description only adequate in describing how to describe.
8th Jun 2015 8:45pm
8th Jun 2015 8:52am
The object doesn't matter only its relationship to the subject - so gibbous won't cut it, the moon
Dissonant write
Dissonant write
The fixed referenced to the fixed. But that's just something that I say without thinking. I don't know, but it's always interesting to find another's perspective.
8th Jun 2015 2:47pm
8th Jun 2015 8:43pm
9th Jun 2015 12:15pm
If its faded on the left, it is waxing - if it is faded on the right, it is waning. The things that come to us in the night time.
