What are we pretending?
Like we might be noticed?
…and then exiled,
like Cicero.
Silly poets.
Silly me.
My blood is draining,
take it from me.
I’m Tired
Krater Café
Words and Images by Richard Reeve
What are we pretending?
Like we might be noticed?
…and then exiled,
like Cicero.
Silly poets.
Silly me.
My blood is draining,
take it from me.
I do read your word work two, three, four times over. To see why it brought a smile, sadness, an unsettled feeling, a confused ‘does he mean this or that?’ response. This one is the the third and fourth. Poetry can be ‘heart on sleeve’ or observational I suppose. All the best.
Glad you were pushed. So glad you spend some time here pondering.