365 Sonnets is completed! While there be no more new posts, feel free to read the sonnets and comment! :)

You can read my new poetry at Some Turbid Night: :)

Friday, June 06, 2008


Confused. And nearly blinded. Dumbstruck fly
amidst the yellow, hardwood floor and shelves,
commotion caused by shuffling feet and yells,
which swirled about in dizziness and fright.

And buzzing to another way close by,
it seems, to books of noble history,
the sullen fly begins to walk to see,
to comprehend what is that messy sty.

And magazines stared down nearby like bears
with giant scribbles, faces like above.
Then squashed, the fly would never find out where
this strange place was - a bookstore far from bare -
as someone’s shoe had squandered him with love
and Anne Boleyn stared from a novel’s head.

No comments:

Post a Comment

A word is dead
When it is said,
Some say.

I say it just
Begins to live
That day.

- Emily Dickinson

Thanks, Wordle!