A Line for BukowskiA Poem by Hollow Man
I sit here, somewhere,
listening to Dirty Rain, reminding my hand not to ash on the carpet. 'I'm proud of you' she says. I've forgotten-- so many things. 'but you just missed our turn'. All rain sounds the same-- it's in what it hits that matters most. My heel grinds ash into dirty carpet.
© 2013 Hollow Man |
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Added on May 27, 2013Last Updated on May 27, 2013 AuthorHollow ManStafford, VAAboutI was born an old soul. Such is life. I live in a wasteland town in Northern Virginia. Poetry is solace. I run an online literary journal titled Toska with my best friend, which is now accepting submi.. more..Writing
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