Flat and dusty, piercing the desert
With a silhouette against the falling sun.
Thriving and thrashing, vegetation grew
Despite the deficit of moisture.
The Holiday Inn where pillows are all so
Fluffy. With mints of grandeur
Laying atop the place of sleep.
Melts smoothly in your mouth.
Weasels sold in dozens, at traps
To the unsuspecting family tourists.
Tributes to their alien encounters,
Blinding, believing to the naïve.
Radiation where the sun lingers on earth
Where the atom was exploited.
Endless air like warm root-beer fills you
After a fresh shave, ready to depart.
I decided I’m going to start posting some stuff I’ve written. The first one is called Growing a Poem and it is a poem about writing a poem.
Growing a Poem
Small, pending life in the palm of your hand.
Dark warm earth is parted and consumes
Everything into darkness where one must wait.
Moist love imbues growth and formation
Into life. Soon the flat surface of the world
Is broken and the elevating sun is seen.
Time gives way to expansion: Roots
Dig deeper and deeper into the unknown,
And Flora becoming open with the sun.
Picking tiny black beetles, their hunger
Destroying confidence. Enriching the
Raw consciousness to ensue more
Life. Continual pruning and reshaping assure
Death will be asleep. Your creation from birth
Inspiring others to grow one of their own.