Corners Untouched by Madness - A Poem by N. Daniel
The kettle's hiss like snakes closer and further from wisdom. The leaves like memories beneath the water tumbling. I visited six service stations in corners untouched by madness, the hatred of plastic freudian secrets like torn glove box prescriptions. I crashed in an outskirt field where snowflakes cursed your name silently. Clarity is a term for mendicants knowing ugly impending truths. Remembering now the hours spent driving insane without you, I cried tonight alone caressing your genius.
From the Book "Corners Untouched by Madness"
- Winter 2012 -