You can’t even count them.
Author Archives: Timothy P. Schilling
So which is it?
Don’t change, she said
Right after she fired me
for being the way I was.
The sound of another man’s apple
Gets between
me and the page
and you and me,
his incisors
breaking the skin,
unfortunately,
and there’s a certain
sloshing
you don’t want to hear.
Not mine
But still, not good.
Earbuds now
serve the one lonely brain,
but we two
were earbuds once,
with two cans and a string
pulled tight in between.
From here it gets tricky
Plum crazy
sounds like
a good crazy to be.
Even W.C.
rejoiced in its juice
in his plum crazy
poetry.
From nothing comes
alumination:
the ball struck
now spinning
to a far outfield
of the mind.
We’re with it going,
going gone.
Till that garden, folks!
Utrecht Journal 