Good reads

I have promises to keep but no miles.
I blow wintry breath gently on them.

Fonts unfold, pages down and across
The letters making ant-lines to holes

Holes already filled with late stories .
There are no more holes down there.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s