RSS Feed

Whoever Is Talking

Whoever that is, talking all the time
inside your head when you talk to
yourself? Whoever mine is, I’ll tell
you this—she has a limited range.
When not shouting, Be Alarmed!
she mainly whispers, careful now
or on her very best days repeats
Oh fragile, fragile, no matter
what I’m looking at my
favorite days are the days
she’s asleep, or at least so tired
and quiet I can look around
see something of the world
with out hearing what I think

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

A Hundred Falling Veils

there's a poem in every day

The Novel Bunch

aka: The Happy Bookers

Red Wolf Prompts

I came to where you were living, up a stair. There was no one there.--John Ashberry, "The New Higher"

typewriter rodeo

custom poems on vintage typewriters

A Poet in Time

One Poet's Writing Practice

Writing the Day

A Ronka Poetry Practice Since 2014

Invisible Horse

Living in the moment

%d bloggers like this: