Number 8 Pencil

I never liked reading poetry all that much, but did enjoy writing it for a brief amount of time. This is a collection of those poems and hopefully will include some yet to be written.

Tuesday, April 01, 2003

After Seeing a Homeless Guy

A heap on wheels
(musty clothes, damp blankets, rotting garbage)
my mobile home

A rusty park bench
(green paint, corporate logos, yesterday's newspaper)
my favorite bed

A pine box coffin
(musty clothes, damp blankets, rotting "garbage")
my eternal peace

An unnoticeable empty void
(________________________________________________)
my presence and your selflessness

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