Thursday, May 29, 2008

Conversate

They sat as I sat
S a l i v a t i n g
over the smallest
I d e a l s
They spat as I spat
E n u n c i a t i n g
Under the tallest
M i n d -w h e e ls

2 comments:

jm! said...

this poem looks and sounds like perfect cirrus clouds, sitting and spitting prayers on a dark grey Tibetan mountaintop.

Jacob said...

That's mad specific, but I totally understand where you're coming from with that. It's awesome when you/others can glean such concrete imagery from such a nebulous idea(or at least indistinct by my perspective)