Monday, October 18, 2010

Allergies (10.18.10)

o that I had a thorn-tipped tongue
with which to settle each itch that come
roof of my mouth a flea-bitten desert
raging with this arid monsoon

each nostril converted to oozism
a humidifier defied by truth
futile extents to bother the box
only left to lift the level

spatial feats that dwarves can't beat
weeps due to no sorrow nor joy

one day long
barely covers one long day
mopped aside
like microscopic carci
Earth's pesticide
why vanquish me

a plea
send down a pillar of fire
rid us of this ragweed

where shall I go?


Galyn said...

Good news. Once the frost cometh, your allergies will goeth!

mandy said...


Tara said...

Wow- quite the poet you are. Check out my blog...