Two haikus

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    Two haikus

    time is suspended
    from a crowd of blurred faces
    a white coat glitters
    friday, ten thirty
    a dream passes to waking
    stirring up the deep
    time is suspended
    from a crowd of blurred faces
    a white coat glitters

    friday, ten thirty
    a dream passes to waking
    stirring up the deep

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    Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

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    Sleeves’s Poems (23)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
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