Mark

POEMS



Egg Shells

The carcass of a storm
a kingdom
where the streets are lined
with egg shells -
The world could
collapse with each
step -
the map
looks like a chart
of veins -
sometimes the resonance
a faint industrial dim
plays tricks and almost
sounds like her breathing
a non-sequitur rant -
the sky is the same
grey-white
as the egg shells -
light rain
hangs like
perspiration in the air.
Where is she?







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Mark

© 2020 KEN UENO

Mark

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© 2020 KEN UENO

Mark