Friday, September 18, 2015

Placing The Blame

I am not that sure
the sun will rise for the last
of us in this town,
on this bamboo path
that I thought I should lay down
through the left hand marsh
so we could avoid
the right hand rocks and sharp scree
found there.

I think now
the sun will refuse
it's former role in the works.

It's for my own good,
no doubt.

I hate that
kind of talk, you know, that way
of placing the burden
back on me when I
never even thought of it
until the load appeared.

‎September ‎18, ‎2015 4:50 PM

1 comment:

  1. I love it, the poem,lol, not the kind of talk, that way.


The chicken crossed the road. That's poultry in motion.

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