Saturday, December 5, 2015

Richard Schnap- A Poem


Start with a childhood
Of privileged sorrow
In a dead museum
Of antique ghosts

Blend in escape
To an alien planet
Where the only truth
Is an endless rain

Bake in the beds
Of intimate strangers
That all seem to wear
The same uniform

Then place outside
To feed to the birds
Hoping they’ll weave it
Into their songs

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