Thursday, May 28, 2009

Morning, (vii)

everything in a state
of metamorphosis
..........until it isn't

..........life tasting stale
as day-old bread
an open bottle of wine
i love yous spilled carelessly
last year sometime
.

3 comments:

kerryan said...

This is lovely -- I particularly like the second stanza and how you really capture the feeling of stale. (Although the bread image felt a little easy... what's something less expected that goes stale?) I really like the ambiguity of time in the last line too.

Ariel Gordon said...

I agree with K.

andie said...

particularly like last 3 lines!