Seth Proch Poems
And A Rock Feels No Pain, And An Island Never Cries
There's a birds nest outside my window,
a bright white ribbon woven into it.
The tail of the ribbon is dancing in the barely present wind.
The scene takes place in a barren tree,
ravaged by the harsh cold of autumn.
I see it all from the open window of my room,
looking out through the metal screen,
where a tiny insect climbs nimbly up the outside.
Some old lo-fi recording of a jazz tune is playing,
and I wonder what she's doing right now.
You were just a little less than what I need,
You’re always checking to make sure you still bleed.
A fashionable obsession with manic-depression,
You’re a semi-suicidal cry for help.
I can only give you all I have,
In return you give me all your pain,
If I come back for more does that make me insane?
It’s just a crazy little thing called love.