|
| |
Ink Has Run Dry
My typewriter has seemingly enough ink
I'm ready to start a poem about sanguine hills
and trusting in angels 2313
but the ribbon has ran dry
The lost longing licks my lips
jerred past the emerald typewriter
gaslighted with fear
I haven't a realm
and hell why not ?
frail and dim I give up
Copyright ©
Antony Glaser
|
|