Talk slow nice.
Talk fast mean.
That’s what the boy said to me.
Talk low.
Talk slow.
Nice.
Calm is nice.
No fast. No scream.
He was saying wait, let me think—
no power, no display, no hurry.
Deep, deep, deep is he.
To use my poetry, please contact me (view profile for email). White-space best viewed on desktop.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
More Poems
-
On a Sunny day I will take you palms-hard against your temples— my fingernails like pain at your head. I will force your consciousness d...
-
I walk day to day and watch each sunrise glide from triumph to twilight. I walk beneath the new moon. I stop at each moment, not once...
-
"Let it be," dad said when a lizard ran beneath a rock. I was out in the yard—yellow sun beating down, yellow grass dead as bones—...
-
Staccatoimpressions bleating— we’re talking: me and me. I’m saying the snippets of my past could fit into a small envelope and I'm sa...
-
The ability to own yourself, your emotions—your essence—to see your wants and values, to see your blessed life and ever blessed breath reap ...
-
I walked a dusty path with short, brown grasses on either side, humming tuned to myself to shade me from my loneliness.
-
As I sit here quarantined, I've been learning through YouTube how to record music. I'm particularly proud of this one. Thanks for li...
-
To drop all perceptions mind and body and soul has attached itself to-- to dare to be open, to be challenged. Here: to let strange hands...
-
In the silence of pizza eating and tv watching with her out in the living room dim lights and soft glow and black table loaded with beer...
-
It was a long, dry winter. It rained a few times. Two days I slept in full pajamas. One week in January I got a sunburn —the pandemic, too. ...
No comments:
Post a Comment