tonight, the rain has whispers.
smoke curls curtly up my side,
silt drips from my eyes,
tears from yesterday's lullaby.
they said we were a cut above
but i harmonized anyways,
cut a chord out of
broken men who hadn't learned to fly
to walk off the edge and forget to die.
4 comments:
1) the third line is slightly icky yet good
2) the last line is super awesome
your poems are so good and unusual, especially lately.
The end is the best part (like your mom last night).
have you ever noticed that you do this thing where you write six to eight poems in a space of two days, and then write no poems at all for a week? perhaps you could stagger this pattern a bit.
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