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Plasma

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Air vibrates
It knocks
 
Sound stabs
It hits
 
Rancid odour
Invades
 
Like the amoeba
It lacks form
 
Like the bamboo curtain
Shields
a hot post office
from
invisible dust
This plasma
It deafens
You
 
This plasma
It invades
You
 
This plasma
It is all around
You
Like dead skin
Of Ghosts
Perhaps
 
This plasma
Which has no form
Lives

Written by Karuna

October 5, 2006 at 3:39 pm

Posted in Idea Space

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