Morbid wonders

Warm winds sweep in

Right over a graveyard;

I hear my neighbour sew

I hear the rain end

Again- I go back a page.

Advertisements

Back then

All I remember

The sound of tea
being poured

While wool

Disguised as fog
climbs up
closing the windows
The tick of the clock

interrupts.

Life and a series of unwanted metaphor

Too much of everyday experience seems to arrange itself into metaphors. Metaphors I didn’t ask for or don’t know what to do with.

I can only hope the protagonist does well and list ones as they spring to mind-

I’ve got a wisdom tooth coming in, it doesn’t hurt- I have plenty of room for them actually. If only I had any appetite left or any wisdom to chew on.

I haven’t had insomnia in a while now. In fact I’m sleepy all the time. But after all my dosing and yawning I still haven’t got a single dream to show for it.

Early Rains

My shadow the only shade;

I run home to open windows.

A crow laughs over seven lanes

And flies seven streets,

A hand through my hair!- it’s just breeze.

The airs cool when the lane dips,

And soft rain drips glass buttons.