Monday, June 13, 2011

Runner Bean

Haunted City ~ Michael Sowa

In a dream of Sunday
Warm on freckled shoulders
The boy that I once was
Runs like only
He can run in dreams
Weightless in the onshore breeze
That tastes of salted spit
And highway diesel
And leaves him on the homeward path
Away from all that reason
His thoughts are a ploughed field
Seeded with tomorrows mistakes

6 comments:

Aulawi Ahmad said...

nice poem, I love it , tq 4 share :)

waroeng coffee said...

I like the pict and the words is really meaningfull

Pisces Iscariot said...

AA: thank you :)

WC: Glad you enjoyed

Tom said...

nice, and also a little depressing

Harlequin said...

the poem and the visual have that strange connection .... absolutely elusive and present ... simultaneously. amazing how you do this.

Pisces Iscariot said...

Harlequin: I guess the connect has been handed to us by the surrealists and their obsession with dreams ;]