Far Apart From The Years

Marbles,fingered in small boxes, /roll lazily past/a pair of roving eyes./Their hues cross mine, striking, in harum scarum glances. A bald waiter , in spectacles, serves up dinner/ to those of us who love to crowd/the banks on the sides of the avenue./Walloped by a great wave, /so boundless in strength,/to create volleys of words/a language, of only curses/ the swift and the strong don’t waver

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s