T O M O R R O W

March 8, 2011

I must be deep in a dusty couch,

Adjusting my sleep,   to peer out on…

It’s  decay w/ a view,  and  I peer out on

All the wasteland’s  initial spectacle;

You can scan,  & not find pheasants

proud & low in their loud trap set to go Pop,

There’s a hare I call Harry

Holding off all his hop,

The crickets, cicadas are quiet for ages,

Mourning doves, so soon to croon, to cry

Out their crucial cries

For the fire  from the East

Must clear the cloaking mists,

Must   show out  us woken just.

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2 Responses to “T O M O R R O W”

  1. dantrewear said

    Love this – “There’s a hare I call Harry / Holding off all his hop”. Not sure if it’s the alliteration, or the humour, but the image works really well. As does the rest of the poem… I’ll be back.
    – Dan

  2. Evelyn said

    “the fire from the East
    Must clear the cloaking mists,
    Must show out us woken just. ”
    amazing three lines. mythical and pretty.

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