POETRY
Posted: Mon Sep 16, 2013 6:31 pm
Big House, by Charles Carreon
All my friends are disappearing;
I don't know where they go.
The clouds thin out to nothing
The waves dissolve on shore.
My suit is made of water
Propped up with hollow stones,
The sun floats somewhere in my head
Wind thrums inside my bones.
Electromagnet frequencies
Tie head to hand and toe,
And circulation systems
Are always on the go.
Hearing sounds, decoding symbols,
Ordering the stew,
Sensing's first, then making sense,
Then sensing what is true.
All my friends are disappearing;
I don't know where they go.
The clouds thin out to nothing
The waves dissolve on shore.
My suit is made of water
Propped up with hollow stones,
The sun floats somewhere in my head
Wind thrums inside my bones.
Electromagnet frequencies
Tie head to hand and toe,
And circulation systems
Are always on the go.
Hearing sounds, decoding symbols,
Ordering the stew,
Sensing's first, then making sense,
Then sensing what is true.