In dark,
in dark pencil,
in dark dreary portable,
in dark dreamy city lights
a boy is drawing a city in an eye,
lined in tall skyscrapers,
a little slice of moon,
dangling as if
a lemon.
Glue Sniffers
Under a bridge,
the color of the skin,
the color of the rio choluteca,
the glue sniffers,
their dreams,
drift,
dirty
river away.
Benjamin Nash has a few poems published in Red River Review, Illya's Honey, Literary Juice, Southern Poetry Review, and others.
No comments:
Post a Comment