I never see it
enclosed in my golden walls
just glimpse it from tinted glasses
it a foaming gushing serpent
but I feel it
in the wet hair of the flower boy
in the rusting windows of buildings I pass by
in the change in the air as the Marriot rushes by
in drenched happy faces
and in ur vagrant words which never fail to mention the sea
13 August, 2007
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4 comments:
but doesnt one get tired of walking on the roads, with no money to ride on autos, these guilded cages in the final reckoning might jut be a little better than being out there under the hot and fiere sun
and in ur vagarant words...
hmmmm
?
why dont you write? ...write.
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