Sojourn

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    Sojourn

      The car frozen and immobile like a boulder, took its position on the globe. Rubber turning to cement while I jerked back and forth trying to continue my movement forward. Dusty pebbles sprinkled across my feet and tickled my throat. Constant momentum ground to a halt does not liberate you but rather encapsulates you.

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    lithiumblack commented on Sojourn

    10-21-2009

    Short and to the point, flavored with obvious frustration. Good piece, and great use of language. Another 10.
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    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

    rubygirl’s Poems (2)

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