Still Life for Buddy Holly
September still-lifes the birch grove
My nose points blank
My eyes smell old
My mouth is a cave-full of time
My ears; stereophonic whispers & silent crickets,
body wholly unheard of;
a below that never ends
Poetry by Ingvar Loco Nordin
Read 62 times
Written on 2024-09-07 at 15:13
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
