#128: Ups & Downs of a Brick Wall

Ups & Downs of a Brick Wall


All you poets
who pass along
aren’t you ashamed?
our poems end up
on perfumed blue paper

We live in cubbyholes of light
feeding wind-up birds
handfuls of organic cereal
once in a while a soft word

Our encounters are forced
brittle shadows of flying spears
pinning us to rumpled walls

I wander lonely as a shroud
that floats too low
over the streets
I don’t know about you
but I need a draft
of spiky blue ink
so thin I cannot feel it
when it pierces my parchment