a whale

even this could go

sometime this small string of rubber

you and i perch upon

hanging over the big dark hole

you and i in the prison

with no floor

big rushing air comes up sometimes

and we steady, help each other


rough rock on the sides but

no hands or feet going up

they throw the food once a day

sometimes you catch it sometimes me

sometimes we starve

sleeping in shifts

holding on to an ankle and

dreaming of times to come

the clear blue cool wave like

moving perfect glass in the sun

the fruits

the grass green and thick

the breeze straight from the seventies

i could feel clearly then

and you too

catch yourself

let’s bounce together

higher see a door or

fly out free as the mind sees it

This entry was posted in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply