When black and blue combine
Trust me when black and blue combine?
alone, one-way streets spindle out,
and settings determine outcomes;
a hand’s not a mouth, a mouth’s not a body,
but a mind is a mind streaking with possibility.
About the author
I live with my wife, an artist, in Indianapolis. Besides poetry, I like to take photographs, read books, travel overseas, and listen to news/political podcasts, college lectures and classic literature. You can read about my approach to poetry on my poetics page. To stay in touch, follow me on Twitter or connect on a variety of other social networks.
Leave a Reply