scribbles
Feeling homesick
all stranded
left the building
keys inside it—
no way back
He’s now so lost
Lights are on
the lamp
still shining
those shelves—
empty
Books all gone
Who’s the liar
who’s the beggar
who’s
the
thief—
This empty soul
Feeling homesick
all stranded
left the building
keys inside it—
no way back
He’s now so lost
He’s got
talent
he’s a genius
such smoked mirage—
portrait,
Pawn
under bare light you should take f l i g h t yet, change of mind— you stay b e h i n d tomorrow’s dream a written stream of conscious s e l f sublimely bored severely u n d e r w h e l m e d i want out here you won’t be n e a r bare light— take flight i want you here come back a g a i n tomorrow’s dream a written stream of conscious s e l f all blurred blue lights in fancy d r e a m s sublimely bored severely u n d e r w h e l m e d tomorrow’s dream a written stream of conscious s e l f
i write on your page slightly tickling your skin with a white f e a t h e r dipping my finger into the porcelain inkwell— so delicately moist with i n d i g o i n k my soft strokes very lightly caress the most sensitive creases on your p a g e i take my dripping finger, full of sensuous thirst, and autograph some verse bites on your back c o v e r and all night long i keep writing free rhymes until you drunkenly fall a s l e e p no need for more words as smudged ink reveals i am about to lose a bird of my own f e a t h e r so long, writing lover of mine— here is one last indigo ink tickle for your g o o d n i g h t p o e t i c d r e a m s
LannaZee 