Wednesday, March 23, 2011

On Dreamland

This place is mysteriously bizarre,
like in a midnight rush hour
thousands pass and come by,
uncontrolled laughter, and
bellows of excitement (or pity?)
Yet everybody is doing something,
things I can’t really figure out
hazy blurs of running men,
skirmishes and dancing tribes.
But none of this unfocuses me.
As I glide towards my orange sign
and I stand beside her
and she takes me away.

6 comments:

ACEBiggaveli said...

This poem is F***ing awesome

dustus said...

I like it

Leonard Parker said...

Wild is imagery and adventurous ride with a pleasing and great ending. Great!

Juan-Carlos Hernandez - Photographer said...

powerful !

Jonny S said...

Nice work

J.J.Brown said...

Interesting, dreamy, what's the orange sign?