A Squall A Fit A Draft A Temptest Poem by Zachary Sharp
A Squall A Fit A Draft A Temptest
Those love poems I write, I don't
know who they're for any more
than I know the next direction
this wind will take,
nor how the raked leaves'll
receive them,
but I'd rather be anywhere else,
in an instant leave when
each squall I fail to repress
and forget, each unrequited tempest
for every lyric's unwitting subject, slips.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
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4/26/2024 12:03:14 PM # 1.0.0.1119
