poems written on the fly

memento mori

In art, d. james, literature, poem, poetry, writing on 25 April 2007 at 4:18 am

I catch a toe
on the bedside table

For a moment
the pain brings a
rush

Then a loud burst
of sound

This is what it is to feel
like a fragile old goat

In the end
no matter how
crafty you are
or how many books
you read

You’re still just a mess
of nerves and fleshy parts
constantly being reminded
what it means to be human

(D. James)

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