Disposable Poetry

poems written on the fly

Nowhere, actually

Posted by D. James on 6 May 2008

They talk
and talk
then talk
some more

Saying the most
benign things
about the weather
or what someone else
has already said

I look for silence

But still they talk
and talk
without really saying
anything

In the end
I wonder …
do these words
really get us anywhere?

(D. James)

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