Thoughts, Stories, The Poem
the hand feels wrong…
Mitchel David Ring
I want my degradation from the top shelf…
there is something left of it…
Darling you knew this day would come…
I don’t want to worship you…
someone has to feel the rain on their skin…
whatever it is, I want all of it…
empires come and go and nothing ever changes
what is this rush
relieved to be hanging by a thread…
a pile of wood to last us or maybe bones I can’t remember…
A landscape done in oil pastel hangs on the wall below the staircase…
I’m not going to say anything that my eyes haven’t already said…
This feeling like a memory has entered me…
once this fell roaring from the mountains…
Mitchel David Ring 