Michael Witkowski

Rookie (14 July 1973 / Berent)

Harrow Shark - Poem by Michael Witkowski

Which harrow shark runs berserk at the sight
of oysters is a privileged question we shall not
bother to answer but where merry sounds blight
our souls, appear in mere bliss and disppear, lot by lot
fingers shiver, spines jerk, members twitch
unfantastic reaction spun by deliverance of an itch

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Read poems about / on: running



Poem Submitted: Wednesday, December 29, 2004



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