outbox
Stick my head in a shadow box
Play with my fingers
Until the story walks
And the feeling lingers
The naked sky screams down at me
And I shout a whisper back
Alone she was a broken only
My shine refracts reflected act
The streets aren’t locked at night
She says she doesn’t need her mind
The fugitive soul is not contrite
And I am feeling just fine
I hang my hopes upon a kite string
And my line reaches toward the sky
They wiggle like birds taking wing
Even though they will not fly
Broken by sorrow
Crushed by fear
Come tomorrow
I’m out of here
This is one of my all-time favorite Mattwricks pieces. The metaphors don’t muddle, but add to the clarity. I feel you Mattwricks.
Comment by Sunsun — 20 October 2008 @ 8:50 pm
truth be known this is an old composition dug out of the archives. recently I heard a trick from a fellow poet, write a bunch of stuff and then let it age. this definitely fits in this category. I’m glad you like it.
Comment by MattWriks — 20 October 2008 @ 9:28 pm