Dingy fur creeps along my arms.
Hay bails are so tight, so perfect.
Mathematical promises melt me.
Creator, where did you go, where?
American Culture, Art, Depression, Failure, Isolation, Kansas, Poems, Poetry, Purpose, Resistance, Seeking God, Take Me To The Hospital
This entry was posted on July 12, 2011, 8:59 pm and is filed under Poems. You can follow any responses to this entry through RSS 2.0.
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#1 by Claudia on July 13, 2011 - 10:14 am
there seem to be so many layers…need to re-read i guess..
#2 by abichica on July 13, 2011 - 2:02 pm
beautiful indeed..a little confusing but thats what i like about it. 😀
#3 by Carl on July 13, 2011 - 8:52 pm
My inner-editor might have been on strike, which occurs frequently.
#4 by siubhan on July 14, 2011 - 10:49 am
I also am perplexed by this. Wonderfully perplexed. One of those poems that I find I really, really like, but I have no idea why. Each of the lines is striking in its own way. Maybe you should give your inner-editor paid vacation days from time to time?
#5 by Carl on July 14, 2011 - 10:35 pm
OOOH! I like wonderfully perplexed. Sometimes, perplexed is a fine state of being. My editor is so fried out, we need to kick him to the curb and let the chips fall as they would like. Thanks for your kind words. It means the world to me.
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