03-21-2013, 07:12 AM
I feel somewhat unsettled, slightly disturbed, as though my heart thinks your poem is frightening but my mind will not heed that judgment. I will say this, I can feel that this poem is imprinted and will stay with me.
I am imagining a rooftop garden, 20 stories up, flowers pressed into the sky. Over the edge, far below, is an antithetical reality.
I am imagining a rooftop garden, 20 stories up, flowers pressed into the sky. Over the edge, far below, is an antithetical reality.