by Ernest Williamson
stoked books coated in sulfuric residue
broken lanterns rocking on marble foundations;
as the landlord summarized my living room with wry laughter
catering to poking fun of my empty space;
Chopin’s music filled the room.
After the shame of poverty and jest leaves;
tacit moments in night find me welcomed
where moonlight clothes my bare frame
while heat between me and tune
climbs above the stay of my landlord’s reproach.
Nirvana is reached by not knowing too much
other than knowing how to know little things
[Featured]Digital Art Image Credit: supermoon by J.A. Spahr-Summers.©Copyright 2015, Jeffrey A. Spahr-Summers.
Snapping Twig – Summer – 2015
Vol: May 2015 thru Jul 2015