A poem that isn’t willing to fight for its life is not worth pursuing.
Tag: undrafted_2015-02
Drifting
I’ve just realized something,
the poet speaks,
as cars materialize and disappear
tumbling wrong angles
on this malinformed trip
Vignette in frosty light
You stumble out of a bar.
Then you’re sitting on a bench.
By the time you’re in the car you’re reading Bukowski.
You both laugh, until Charlie throws that killer punch of his.
Now there is silence.
Now there is silence.
A silent vignette in frosty light.