Friday, August 4, 2017

judith

jPayne 2©17 4aug

i like feeling it
a little sorry
for myself,
i'm best when blue

i'm warm in melancholy
when rain is foreign cool
and the sky is blue too
it's an imagination

humani don't know escape
they bustle
frogs and bird sat in branches
the large leaf surrenders like rooftops

i stand along time
the grocery stores emptied
like a race
i spoke with the patient elderly

where do they all go?
is there some hurry
that busy stoplight isn't waning
the star will still rise Friday

judith regenberg
we remembered then
conversations
when there was nothing else to do

what are connections
sticks of dynamite
in a sand pile
we played

i looked her up
in the eyes
they are dark
bluer than a storm

jPayne 2©17 4aug