Following the trip trap tripe of the day
With a mentholated cigarette and a soda
Letting the ringing in my ears
From endless hours in conference calls
Die dammit die so slowly as the night settles
Raindrops in my ears, the leaky drainpipe sputters
Underneath it still the steady hum of streets
And the kill rebirth kill murmur of central air
The telephone sits like a spent whore
Laying hot in its cradle recharging its battery
And I write this nonsense
Having spent the afternoon editing
Seventeen lines of text
Four hundred lines of code
With no energy left to modify this poem.
Random Posts
- RepetitionHow many times do I need to reach out, without reaching, into the universe that waits, patiently, through my doubt and some overwhelming sense, a …
- Oversimplification #40237AReligions are formed every day Each meant to last, each fades away To be of use, each offers some Instruction on the life to come …
- QuietListen … beyond the bustle of the nearby cross-street, beyond the hum of the pulsing air conditioners, beyond the rustle of the tree leaves, beyond …
- Repetition
Most Shared Posts
- If what is real is unseen by the eyeand what surrounds us each day is a dream;if striving is just fi0 Shares
- It’s true in companies as much as in society: evil flourishes when good people do nothing to stop0 Shares
- What is our conversation now, in this new world of selfwhere all our time and energyjust builds a cl0 Shares
Recent Comments
- Irene on Some ancient affirmations
- Rekha on No More Sad Weepings of Regret
- Novena on Wake Up: sonetto rispetto
- John on On the Veranda: serenade
Blogroll