Thursday, December 31, 2009

Defensive Wounds

Some days, I’m uncertain.
Oh, not of whether the sun will rise,
or the moon find a convenient cave
in the hind-quarters of
another blistered sunset —
no, not that, but rather if
my pants are on, my tie
set vertical and my words
understood. Words are,
after all, the only window between,
the only communication
my bottle body — floating
a southern sea,
asking to be saved — can find.


Aisha said...

Moion poem, kinda--
yes, we want our words to find the rescue team in time--

bottle-post-- already thinking of that Southern Seas cruise, eh?-- *jealous*

BTW love the new blog title & photo

Aisha said...

Moion is typonese for Moon

sorry :-(

hwf said...

I don't believe that oyu would ever make such a typo :))))).

Yeah, I sort of like the new look myself...spruces up the old place.

Aisha said...

oyu have caught Typonese Flu-- the worst kind :-o

Love the heron.