Michael Witkowski

Rookie (14 July 1973 / Berent)

Lame-A - Poem by Michael Witkowski

streaks of sun bless my
void
where not a time begins
all exasperations end

mustn't thou learnt to
swim or can't ye- thou canst
learn it cheaper in
a club - her swipe
next to: what are
you mumbling?

a lamb hums her
explosive pronounced t's
the sesame to her mind
always straightly linear
behind the tool of t's hides
it wants rage to somersault

not jog or walk- they
challenge poise - equilibrium
not. Scales are tipped to
one side but which things?
if sesame's environment
tightens muscles for

a benign expression,
then my sun wakes


Comments about Lame-A by Michael Witkowski

  • (1/10/2005 4:17:00 PM)


    I think this kind of stuff is something a mother could -possibly- like.
    But what is it doing on a poetry site?
    What is it?
    Are delusions pleasant?
    Forget that I commented.
    H
    (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: sun, time, swimming



Poem Submitted: Monday, January 10, 2005

Poem Edited: Monday, January 10, 2005


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