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.
Hit And Run
His eyes burried in a novel,
She entered the room,
He awoke from his world of fiction,
Greeting her with a half hearted smile,
It was not returned.
With a phrase she left him once again,
'I just wanted to make sure we were clear'
He had nodded silently,