Published April 21, 2007
Paperless poet, snatching
rocks off the road and pocketing
them like heads-up pennies,
blooming roadkill up ahead,
plastic shimmering red and
blue bursts of beauty.
Unwalked land has
blades of grass as
vibrant as a child's synapse,
and only God can speak
such pristine silence
into evershines of sun.
I'm glad to be without the company of my echo.
It's best a fruit never sees
its flowers left behind.
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141,251 Literary Works • 674,330 Reviews
I'ma just say that the ending was amazing. brilliant. as well as the entire beginning.