Monday, October 23, 2006

Writer's Diary #8: Pie

It's late, I can't sleep, and other than lambasting myself for things that should have been done, I'm haunted by late-night poems (which in the morning are about as coherent as stoner poems). Enjoy.


At the edge of the night
crusts turn crispy
(by a sun)
and the sky, star-poked
for ventilation,
holds what I assume to be


Qurios said...

I don't get it, but it did make me chuckle.


John Mutford said...

Yeah, it wasn't as clear for me the next morning either. I must have been hungry.

Apples was a throwback to Genesis though, I remember that much.