Wade with Me

Come down here, Ellen. Jesus, leave your
Keyboard, douse that little light. My boots
Now overflow with goo from you and all
Those other poets, pecking out non sequiturs
And smiling to your addled selves. You've
Been profound. Well, no, you haven't.
All you've done is waste your time. Come
Down and join me in the world. Feel the
Wind. It's like a knife, and smell the cold,
And see the snow for what it is. It isn't
Glitter. Darkness doesn't have voice,
And any eyes you see within it don't belong
To kindred souls. They're owned by beings
Who would bolt if they could get through goo.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 23 times
Written on 2012-12-06 at 22:39

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