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Grind Eyes

by David Maurice

The sea-salt licks

I've gotten used to
getting used to
getting used

Parallels and hypochondriacs
rule this nation and
I've orbited the sun,
ride ending in the same damn place,
always facing towards or
away from a hot or a cold

The angles make an army,
barrels thrown by apes
barrels rode down falls
bands of iron and stave
made of hearts

The mist obscures the bottom


Posted on 06/29/2014
Copyright © 2021 David Maurice

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 07/02/14 at 04:43 PM

I enjoyed how you played with words here - S2 is clever. "Parallels and hypochondriacs rule this nation" - this is going to stay with me. Thanks!

Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 01/03/16 at 06:03 PM

Good to see this as POTD!

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