The Tower of Babel

How does one say
the same thing about
Nothing, again and again?

Lay the first course of bricks
from a corner-dream-stone, and
on a strong foundation of fresh air?

Paint seven pictures of the night in 
seventy times seven misty colours, and
watch the morning sun consume them all?

Put a story-capstone on an ever changing
tide of nameless feelings labelled into thoughts,
then fence a portion of that sea and call it Me?

My plans point at me and laugh from the
rubble they have left behind, and watch the
smoke rise and dance from the end of my cigar.

Leave a Comment

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 )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google 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 )

Connecting to %s