O little bag of magic rocks:
keep me safe
from scaly hands
and claws under my bed.
keep them away,
those unseen things,
that lurk in the holes in my head.
Archive for February 10, 1991
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Untitled Poem #103
Posted: February 10, 1991 in PoetryTags: Ocean, Sleep, Tree, Whipped Cream, Wind, Window
I can hear the sound of the ocean
as I float in my sea of whipped cream sheets.
the wind in the trees outside my window
calls me softly
to sleep.
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