Posted: February 5, 2018 in Uncategorized

Look around see what you’ve done … how did I get here
I made this day by day made my way
to hear the sound of my voice
saying the same things over and over.

Somewhere in all the familiarity there must be a surprise
a rose on the pillow a spider in the closet
the smell of garbage sprinkled with perfume
… other nods to propriety.

This here now we are its inhabitants … in habit ants are we
such insight casts a vista in somewhat different light
I see thousands on the shore knocking on the door
the sun rising a cry rising too … no more no more!

  1. Theron says:

    I liked this poem


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