To Be Poem
To Be PoemTo Be,
having not been for
so very long.
How long?
How long?
As long as the universe
and as wide
as her eyes
in this
silly
sad world;
and she looks
at the same moon
as I
and she moves her toes in the dirt
connected to the dirt under me.
Moon I say.
Moon,
so orange and blue.
You are a pathetic rock
without her eyes
to see you.
The last poem was Meaningless Scribbles from a Tiny Universe by David Michael Jackson. The next poem is it’s all absurd
