untitled Moon Funk (while I was lodged between an iceberg and a drunk)

 

Moonchild

No sunshine

 

No Moonshine

 

No one knows what to do

with my kind.

 

They’d profit from me

if they thought they could

 

but they’re lodged somewhere

somewhere

            somewhere....

in some wood

 

Perhaps not unlike

the kind I paint on

Reviews

[Kelly A. Brown]

Very interesting and abstract poem.

[Colette]

thank u Kelly for reading and commenting :)