Saturday, October 11, 2008

Lets try allegory, shall we

the poet at the window

does not see

only writes
his words spun from dusty air
thick with the scent of literature
on shelves
a taste
of what he could have read
he coughs

and carries more meaning than a lifetime

of scratching

with his no.2 on archival paper
The newspaper in town publishes his work
out of pity
(and lack of truth)
manufacturing illusion
on the presses that publish
The Informer

the child
that took the paper from under-neath the coffee mug this morning
reads with quiet awe
underneath the covers
his child's mind

assigning worlds to empty words


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