Parachute pants made of linen and cotton- billowing in the breeze, on a summer day. More at https://poetry347.wordpress.com/.
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Parachute pants made of linen and cotton- billowing in the breeze, on a summer day. More at https://poetry347.wordpress.com/.
The post Parachute Pants | Mary Bone appeared first on Best Poetry Online.
Go to Source
Author: Best Poetry Online
We’re in a luxurious hotel suite, Bill Gates, Steve Jobs, and I — but I’m invisible and Bill Gates does most of the talking as He and Steve Jobs sip brandy from Crystal snifters and I love the word snifter But let’s put that aside because Bill Gates Suddenly proposes merging Microsoft And…
Regardless of caring, not caring, the man carrying a burden on his back, is what I turn away from, to hide my face or my shame or recognize the fact that ours is a country, where self destroys, forgetting not itself, but others who share burden of killing, mitigating that one bit. Killing poverty. The…
________________________________________ Old Dogs (Remember) You’ve heard the saying. The first day at home, snub-nosed and sweet, house-trained but otherwise unbroken, our rescue ignored every trick in the book—classic commands: sit, stay, be good, I begged. But as the wisdom goes: At some point,…
wind… from where have you come where do you go what do you carry whom do you know circling round corner nestling in crevice and seam scattering seeds over meadow gathering fragrance from blossom and bloom swaying beneath your stride ever restless and impatient running full circle wide pausing to gather your wits before driving…
Some moonwalk backwards past.Some slow-motion steer.Some upwards beanstalk mast.Some downhill rabbit hole disappear. Some hand in hand.Some distant one-man elastic band.Some three-legged race.Some astronaut-float through space. Some in 14th century rags.Some in 1789 attire.Some in birthday suit bags.Some with hair on fire. Meanwhile as I sit and sip,the rusty wind-up toy cafe box spins.Teacup saucer…
Layaway After offices are flushed, we workers go home or to a nearby bar, museum, or movie house that fills the blanks left decades ago, last year, or yesterday. A wind kicks up again, displacing our own weight, edging purple between red and gold on a small pad. She draws a man who looks down…