By Rob Schackne
A utopian flash
to be a rock
and not to roll
nothing says
solar system
like the rain
wind up
slow eyes
birds scatter
I mop the floor
a poem or two
clouds clear
A utopian flash
to be a rock
and not to roll
nothing says
solar system
like the rain
wind up
slow eyes
birds scatter
I mop the floor
a poem or two
clouds clear