Back Pocket

 

 

i am writing for you, words folded into my back pocket,

do you read them when out of sight?

 

figuring it for another writer, another lie way hands slip from holds,  

 

here, is crooked wrists painting pages, a                   rich color, browns      reds     clay from texas soil    sand at the bottom of colorado rivers

 

   offered as petals from bouquets made sunflowers tulips orchids pretty shape leaves with names i do not know in dedication because i haven’t gotten to speaking out these words for you

 

. 7:37PM Tue 04/13/10 (Written, Frank)

Reviews

[H. A. M.]

I want to say ...it reads like a haiku....like a connect the dots sort of thing...

[TLK]

This doesn't seem to mean much?