An accidental poem by Joe. The sun came out and the river Thames was a beautiful ruffled blue surface when my train crossed it.
Certain of nothing now but smiling and the pup, sighing tired sighs in my lap. Possibility of the day’s last minutes growing limp like wilted radish greens. What I could start and not finish haunts me. Dinner was invented, destroyed, and the dishes speak of a modern, though pointless porcelain sculpture. And isn’t that theContinue reading “THE DAY’S LAST MINUTES”
Sweeping up the last traces of you, just now, I pulled out the furniture to find stray tufts of fur in levitating pompoms behind the end table and the curtains. This would be how I say goodbye and a what voluntary goodbye it was. Goodbye, cat. See you later, maybe, cat. Each sweeping motion, castingContinue reading “VOLUNTARY GOODBYE”
The windows on Walnut change much faster than the leaves Layering garments in such familiar designs and long sleeves In the city a single tree is my weathervane A concrete gutter collects memories Meanwhile, in the sticks great green walls of corn Grow too tall to see the next field where cats are keeping warm
A galaxy of cream unribbons in my coffee cup An accidental poem by David Mitchell via number9dream.