A microscopic home.

this is a literary blog. i'm literate so i must have something to say. hopefully.

Saturday, January 14, 2006

this early spring

the potholes have become miniature oceans
thick with mud and rime
only at night time do I dare
say the waters have stilled.

I stretch my feet across these
cement streets – the grid patterns
that direct my departures and arrivals

while all along muttering e.e. cummings
underneath my tongue like a prayer


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