Corners Untouched by Madness
The kettle's hiss like snakes
closer and further from wisdom.
The leaves like memories
beneath the water tumbling.
I visited six service stations
in corners untouched by madness,
the hatred of plastic freudian secrets
like torn glove box prescriptions.
I crashed in an outskirt field
where snowflakes cursed your name silently.
Clarity is a term for mendicants
knowing ugly impending truths.
Remembering now the hours spent driving insane without you, I cried tonight alone caressing your genius.
- July 14, 2014. -
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