Thursday, August 6, 2009

Poem 45


 

With ideas solid as Jell-o molds

And actions louder than whispers

Cracks and comments, hints and snickers

Slither forth from dark and secret places

Echoes inside AM's scratchy landscape

Where some slouch and sway

Along an endless, twisting way.

Will we notice what got said

Or fear the echo without thought

With dread.

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