Crazy House Poem #2

It’s hard to think deeply

unsettled as shells

half-baked and empty

on the sand.

Only fingers

can change my view.

Otherwise, I

can only wait

the eons

between high and low

sea tides. 

Even then, no life

hangs to my sides,

though it was life

that I came

to be.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s