September 1, 2009

I wrote this out:

"A tired old coat
made its way from the closet. It said,
'How many symbols do you need,
stacked up like an open guillotine?
how careful, slow and old 
decrepit bent and always singing 
songs of death?'

"Always singing songs of praise
not equal to your ancient tattered 
well-considered, stitched up ways," I sang,
in brightest tones.

The coat heaved a sigh and got in line 
while I prepared another rhyme. 

Vertigo
Angielena Chamberlain
Oil on Canvass

Vertigo
Angielena Chamberlain
Oil on Canvass