I have lain cheek-by-jowl with carpets,
felt porcelain's cold kiss,
found comfort on park benches,
and yet it comes to this.
The stars looked down in disgust,
or was it passers-by?
I raged at indifferent phantoms,
believed that I could fly.
Now I sleep on cotton bedclothes,
a roof keeps out the stars:
I'm choking on boredom's kindness,
I dream of shabby bars.
Comments
chuck | February 7, 2010 - 17:47
Plenty of time to consider the less fortunate. That last line bothers me a bit....the 2 syllables in 'wishing' and 'saloon' don't quite fit.
I dream of shabby bars?
Ewan | February 8, 2010 - 07:17
That word is responsible for the WIP in the teaser. Good spot, better suggestion.
Cavalcaderl | February 9, 2010 - 22:32
new Ewan
Congrats: on the cherry!
Really like all of this.
The first stanza I like
I have lain cheek-by-jowl with carpets
sad reminds me of homeless.
julie (:-
Honorine | February 12, 2010 - 17:28
I really enjoyed this