Poetic License

This started as an experiment to write ten poems a day. That clearly didn't last, but I'll still put up some words from time to time.

Some I will mean, and some I won't. None of these are finished. This is me, trying.

10-20

Scribbled on the back of a program at BAM tonight while watching Compania Nacional.

He goes

pail, frail

kicking and screaming

dreaming, perhaps

of the womb

his last place of comfort

Now

twitching, gasping

there is no air

outside that watery

birth place

No air

only ominous flashes and shadows

He can hear nothing

see little

speak not

Powerless he writhes

against the powerful

flailing, pushing

pushed into

a world

he cannot understand.