Pessimist Poems
Glass Half Empty
by Tuesday .
Where the sun’s pride glows red on pale skin
and treasure is clams under our toes
burrowed in the sand.
The air is salty and
the cleanest my lungs have ever felt.
Deer frolick together among the tall brush
Stopping for just a moment, to tell me that I’m alive.
But even then I am on fire,
And the deer are getting sick from the ticks
......
Glass Half Empty
by Tuesday .
Where the sun’s pride glows red on pale skin
and treasure is clams under our toes
burrowed in the sand.
The air is salty and
the cleanest my lungs have ever felt.
Deer frolick together among the tall brush
Stopping for just a moment, to tell me that I’m alive.
But even then I am on fire,
And the deer are getting sick from the ticks
......
