Saturday, August 10, 2013

Days Come and Go Like Bruises

days come and vanish like bruises,
Pain stays within, not interested in
Italy, Chicago, Seattle, Austin, or Augusta,
The branches of confusion and aromas of shadows
keep echoing among waves at sunset beach,
Scanning books at a bookstore,
words become blurry with
my enlarged eyeballs, the
knowledge from experience pushes
the authors' lines until they're curved like wrinkles,
Broadway level poetry for lunch,
It takes hours for a traditional belly
to get used to the new dishes
that's cooked in foreign style,
The advantage is that
after everything pedaled behind, one
has no regret of making efforts
to intake the raw thoughts.