Kaiku Haiku?
It drips
from the edges
of a blunt dagger.
of a blunt dagger.
It churns
the insides
of a rusty boiler.
It slithers
in the depths
of a stinking sewer.
It moistens
the sweat-streams
between skin and moving skin.
It weeps
in the blackness
of a windowless mind.
It laughs
from the tip
of an infant's pink toe.
The poem.
Everywhere.
Disguised.
Devious.
3 comments:
Loved the title!!! He he he!
one of the blog title .....i remembered........from the blogger meet.....though i'm not fond of poems.....but will try to be here often........
An interesting perspective. That poetry is there everywhere...
Post a Comment