I want to find recognizable, understandable, lyrical words from the feelings I derive from abstract thoughts and images. I want to improve my communication of these ideas, and ideas in general, through different kinds of media.
Monday, February 13, 2012
Original Poem
A Feburary 3rd
While the white crinkles stain
black from the opening,
pregnant words only sound like whispers.
The wind takes my dirty paper napkin.
It doesn't matter,
there are more in the house.
