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---
title: Look
subtitle: a found typewriter poem
genre: verse
epigraph:
content: |
Is he older? I asked her.
And I never got an answer, because at the moment she disappeared in a puff of smoke.
I like to think nothing ever happened to her save that she went over to the spirit realm.
I usually know better though.
project:
title: Autocento of the breakfast table
css: autocento
...
Look, I say---look here--- \
at this old place \
where nothing changes. \
Look at the people \
who pass by. Look at \
the trees. The flowers \
full of wanting: look \
how full they are with \
color. Look how they mock \
us, empty people who \
must fill themselves \
with changes---emptiness.
"There is nothing to be \
but happy. There is no \
sadness to fall down \
like cherry petals."
The trees don't under \
stand: they are too \
tall to see the germ \
of discontent in us.
|
