Wednesday, 13 April 2011

NaPoWriMo. Day 13. Poem 13. Warm Machine

Every foot in my poem walks
down halls, looking
for dance floors in
other people. It’s a party
in a foxhole. Invite yourself.
smell the tarmac
shift the gravel. Hold
breath like fire
in the heart of your hands.
Operate your spirit like life
is a beautiful industry.

1 comment:

  1. You have an especially nice notion of how to place line breaks for effect. And just overall, loving this piece! Lots of nice surprises and unexpected bits throughout. Great work!