I watch the ripples change their size
But never leave the stream
Of warm impermanence
And so the days float through my eyes
But still the days seem the same
And these children that you spit on
As they try to change their worlds
Are immune to your consultations
They're quite aware of what they're goin' through

Thursday, June 19, 2008

Those rascally poems

More poetry has occurred
Not as good as "What the Sea Sends"
Troubled birthing pains
In dire need of cosmetic and reconstructive surgery

So we don't send it out
We talk in loud whispers
Use Dr. Shoal's amazing freeze wand
to remove its warts

Then we send it through therapy
This is not the poem you seek
This is not the Scrimshaw Man
That is another poem.

It may never see light
as the premise is stolen
like a babe in the night
a changeling of sticks and moss left in crib

or

The poem you seek
Is not the one in hand now
Try back tomorrow

2 comments:

ThatGreenyFlower said...

Beautiful! A reflection on so many circumstances at one time.

Steve Buchheit said...

Thanks Greeny.