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and to think i saw it on floyd terrace

Tim Martin's Sonnet Project

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

It's Called a Tumbleweave

left here as undecorated halls
know the skin in this game
but never tell children who anxious,
free, fall waiting with the urge for air
and some day it was accepted speech
punks in the eyes of your sneer
abbreviated by the girls hobbies
that style after your city of choice
capitalizes in the wake of brethren
born in shadows of a superpowers
sure to arrive, but late to the party
either you should know all there is
or shut up and watch the ride

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