in stitches,
tears stream down my cheek,
grains of sand sprinkle my eye,
( sigh )
a stitch in time,
may save nine,
but my lesson has been learned:
don’t get too big for my britches,
after all,
life has been kind,
even if it often leaves me in stitches … … …
fitting in,
acceptably hushed,
alienation photoshopped, airbrushed …
at home ?
not this rolling stone,
bruising my rattled self to the bone,
enveloped by walls,
as each evening falls,
shivering as desolate morning dawns,
painted smile,
shushing rising bile,
my fatigued soul yawns,
a being who fawns:
the perennial exile … … …
Banksy
talkin’ corneal-transplantation stitches blues …
in stitches,
tears stream down my cheek,
grains of sand sprinkle my eye,
( sigh )
a stitch in time,
may save nine,
but my lesson has been learned:
don’t get too big for my britches,
after all,
life has been kind,
even if it often leaves me in stitches …
The Interrupted Vision …
Straining to see,
the hummingbird that whispers,
the blade of grass that murmurs,
the fattened drops of summer rain,
falling.
Yearning to see,
that solitary palm on a long abandoned beach,
the coquettish ocean embracing the retreating sun,
the momentary mirth of a teasing twilight,
falling.
Aching to see,
that promise of hope,
as light fades,
flickering faintly,
in my unseeing eyes…
Scribbled Verse 