On Anger Poem by James McLain
On Anger
Comets flash and memory
becomes
like that which is the past.
Few people have.
More than information,
about the.
And the truth is about,
only that.
Verbs that can't act.
Metaphors of color no one,
can taste.
And to smell the answer.
Where is the key
to the door of and the.
Memories become and
comets flash.
Friday, February 22, 2013
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9/23/2024 5:51:05 PM # 1.0.0.1119
