from The Mad SongMichael Schiavo
Let it all come down: let everything fall where she comes from. Trust me in the troubles that are coming, are to come. I've seen the revels before us. Only I can understand the pigeons on the overpass. The crinkled paper. The lord and lass. The average song of the average man.
Author Discusses Poems
|©copyright 2004-2018, No Tell Motel. All poems ©copyright the authors.|