On Writing

Poem 225 – Eight Ball

Eight Ball

on a whim
I palm the magic
eight ball
ask: will I ever
get an agent?

the rush of hot hope
the tightening of desperation
makes my torso smaller

blue bubbled liquid
reveals the white
pyramid of magic
in the small
window of
the ball’s belly:


2 thoughts on “Poem 225 – Eight Ball

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s