No longer
Yellow was the color
Of his soul
Colorless external existence
Going through his days
Trudging
Walking from one thing
Running from another
Always running
Yellow was the color of his
Soul
Red was the color
He saw
But he couldn’t do a
Thing about it
Running from one thing
Crashing into another
Till one day the sidewalk ended
This was the
Last house at the end
Of the street
Fighting every urge
He knocked
Yellow
Was
Had been
No longer
The color of his soul
Chris McQueeney 10/2/14
1 comment:
Keep up the practice... nothing replaces the work, the actual wordsmithing daily work of writing shit down. Along the way you change. This is inevitable, always happens and the work changes too. Sometimes, you contact the real partners who will last and be of value one way or another in the work. That doesn't change the basics of the work. You get up tomorrow and do it again, just like any other job.
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