Sunday, August 09, 2009

Late Cretaceous

(A section, at least)


My landlord is dying

The man in love with the idea
of being loved

Is building an igloo

Sewing morning glory into the seams

Such timing!

It's a problem

The City of God segues into
the half-life of urban decay

100,000 years out from the homeland

We're still dreaming

Of a mother tongue or a passport

Something personal

To touch against our skin


Unknown said...

Lovely poem--or part thereof.

Charmi said...

Thanks, Greg. It's time I got back to writing!

I've been watching your novel updates. Wow!