Stray seeds
Never caring for morethan what one day can say,
never selling what can't be said
– too short in days of dire deeds –
I flee what I see and go
where elucidation circumscribe
the meaning of implication.
I hear you as the fading,
it grows more common:
the leeway gains more speed.
I hear you and lean
against the night
and its baffling companion.
Poetry by Bob
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Written on 2008-03-08 at 00:21
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Rob Graber |
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by Bob Latest textsI seldom walkthere’s a rumor there will be no full stop so many regrets who am I |
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