Wet Newspapers

Here leaves of gray grace the ground

rustle not, without a sound.

Soles stick to slipping streets

bleeding through to numb your feet.

Liquid paper pinned to pavement

face down.

Ink that leaks.

Sink that drips.

We're all dirty dishes dishevelled

by such a dischordant dishwasher.

Dangling drips of dangerous demagoge detergent deluge from

rocket ship stretching skyward scrapers.

And we all drown in wet newspapers:

news about nothing but the same wet washed of white

grayer than gray, hand spaded, grave.

Reviews

[Jeannie Wilder]

You have an intriguing mind... (sorry this isn't a review, but I had to say it somewhere)

[Angie Diane♥&hea..]

I like it :))