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Contents
You Awaken From a Nap, Hung Over

You awaken from a nap, hung over
It is dark outside already.
The newspapers on the table,
the dirty dishes -- an unreal space.

You have a bowl of chile,
a cup of tea,
languidly stir the thick imagination.

You go out, after a while.
A strange light seems to lurk
between the houses and the telephone poles.
The car glides out of the alley in silence
and the pace picks up.

One knows that poems are out there,
waiting in the thick mileau of the night.
© COPYRIGHT 2015. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
  • Home
  • Genevieve Freeman
  • Les Reed
  • Carolyn Reed
  • Darcy Reed
  • David Allen Reed
  • Blog
  • Ouji
  • that's just what you think
  • the girl who couldn
  • theodore
  • Flash Fiction
  • Facing Music
  • The Coat
  • Sorry Sweetheart
  • The Listener
  • Resistance
  • Poetry by Carolyn Reed
  • Emblematic
  • Poetalk
  • Ensenada
  • Maternity
  • Mother's Day
  • Union Station
  • Having Never Flown
  • William from the res
  • To the Forest
  • Cuneiform
  • The House of Tofu
  • The Bubble Angel