Monday, June 21, 2010

Meagan Good Short Hair 2010



You've been in this room

You've been in this room

Now he plays a plaintive melody

You have breathed this air

Now smell the wet laundry

Sub

singing a minstrel lonely crowds and

wine decanted and full cups

searched Flavors

between the eye and embarrassment

funny story country

vague and places

Landscapes of another existence

Portugal, Morocco, North too cold

And the South is too hot

Travel ever made, a fantasy

sentimental and a little ridiculous

Small feet

To reach this room

looking at the sky and a mountain Fuzzy

It now has a memory that can not drive

Shoes aside a corner in wet

The world has been watching

I was taught that in poetry there are

Feelings,

My feelings,

and then that this is not a poem

but a confession,

a whisper,

crying or laughing

or scarring on the usual running time

indifferent witness

E 'state. Useless but true.

E 'success and I will not deceive

And do not mislead the translator

not commit an error here

not be confused, you're wrong.

This dark sky with the stars sparse

we have observed is there two rattles

This is heaven.

still raining outside

Despite the predictions and assumptions

And yet here it rains

Despite the conditions

What I continue to hate

But who cares?

In poetry there are emotions

Who am I?

Just a normal man

granules of a humanity beyond recognition

strolling reading even if it rains

No weirdness

Suffice

Perhaps a word

never ruled

In one of your many languages \u200b\u200b

And who knows that a sense he was not found

In reality this Absurd

Forgive Albert,

Master,

sense

maybe I could find it.

You know, I love

deceive.

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