Wednesday, September 8, 2010

New York/Central Park

A terse man leans
from his child’s frown.

A little dog leaves
and a bench is clear.

Clouds in blobs.

The pain impresses me.
In fact a line rises from me.

In time my body will lessen.
The remains of the day will be the total
of what I’ve chosen to count.

No comments:

Post a Comment