Treasure Island

Is It Poetry

(1958 - / Bus-Boys And Poets, Washington D.C.)

Our Open Hearts


Not hearing the rain.
There is a complete lack of silence.
Water that falls which if silent.
Being different from the rain.
Order in order.
Order our open hearts.
Do not.
Do not go down to the clouds.
Where by the eye.
Floating by we become tired.
As the air through the moss on the leaf.
Because the green fluffy moss,
which has become brown due to our limited words.
Twigs fight with the leaves,
and round is the center to give you my heart,
to make it easy, to wash.

Submitted: Wednesday, August 10, 2011
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