Transit

I pity the plough horse
Forced to destroy the very grass
She hopes to eat
I think of such things
While riding the bus
The ocean still hasn’t read us
I am not at one with myself
Certainly its true tonight
Half mortal outside the city

Author: stevekuusisto

Poet, Essayist, Blogger, Journalist, Memoirist, Disability Rights Advocate, Public Speaker, Professor, Syracuse University View all posts by stevekuusisto