from the archives. nonsense.
Something to do with Age
There was a time when the snap
Of a carabiner brought pure delight,
When I would have gladly
Jammed a fist into a crevice,
Rejoiced at my bloody knuckles.
Now my heart quickens at a passage,
A word, a riff, a stanza, a viola
Echoing the voice of its sweeter mate,
Or a story of a man who breaks into his
Neighbor's house in the dead of night,
Rifling his friend's pant pockets
For the wallet which he knows is there,
Later returning the money, secretly,
When his fortunes are rejoined.
Poetry by jim

Read 149 times
Written on 2024-02-10 at 15:08




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