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A Sense of Time
A strange sun follows me where I go
trying pale white water paint
to pretend colors I cannot believe:
a pale blue mountain side
becomes a thin, pale sea.
I am in the forest underneath the trees
where the rivers run
under a lazy, speckled sun
running through river bells
to a moonlit, soundless sea.
Tossed far into the running winds
my way of life passed into dreams:
should one death hang me so?
I hang, dripping from the sky
into the tremendous wealth
and inevitability
of the sea.
Copyright ©2004, ©2005, ©2006 Joshua Suchman. All rights reserved.
Taboo's Ezine Navigator: Article Index
Taboo Tenente: A Thinker's MFA Journey - Home
The Phallic Suggestion
Stone Soup Blog Forum
A strange sun follows me where I go
trying pale white water paint
to pretend colors I cannot believe:
a pale blue mountain side
becomes a thin, pale sea.
I am in the forest underneath the trees
where the rivers run
under a lazy, speckled sun
running through river bells
to a moonlit, soundless sea.
Tossed far into the running winds
my way of life passed into dreams:
should one death hang me so?
I hang, dripping from the sky
into the tremendous wealth
and inevitability
of the sea.
Copyright ©2004, ©2005, ©2006 Joshua Suchman. All rights reserved.
Taboo's Ezine Navigator: Article Index
Taboo Tenente: A Thinker's MFA Journey - Home
The Phallic Suggestion
Stone Soup Blog Forum
