Poem for December, Part II
To to, and fro fro,
Where is the barrel, oh my?
Pointed at thy gullet is the lesion from yesterday,
As scorn frolics in revolving denial,
As the sky spins faster than trails can climb,
The heat shield of Barbados combines into rye,
'Tis a Friday in December, does snow feel weak sometimes?
Do the stars and the moon frown when they are stupid?
Yes, here, they do, yes indeed, until this month is redressed,
By the best, we feel the vehicle, of time, continue on.
Published by Albert Chang
On Associated Content since September, 2008... View profile
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1 Comments
Post a CommentVery original and intriguing.