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A Truly Terrible Poem Inspired by Halloween, Boredom and Wishful Poets
The tumbleweed cannot speak
But if he could
He would
Say
Ouch!
Damn it!
I’m not local
A cowboy’s invasive fantasy
You can fly overhead
Seeing them roll
Alongside newspaper
Crunch!
Car
Hit it
But what meaning?
It is like dreams
I find between wake and sleep
A moment without vails
Eyes open or closed
Somehow spirits speak
I have heard
I have seen
I have felt
No smell
No taste
But, they speak
The words or images or sense
A thing
A message
You ask-
Am I reading this right?
Why can’t spirits just be clear?
Why can’t they just say what needs to be heard?
They are not allowed
You know this
So, do I
And from my telephone pole
I shat upon the highway
The tumbleweed
Drops down the arroyo
If you are looking for meaning
Buy a dictionary, bud!
