…meanwhile
common Welsh flowers caw
from choir loft hedges
the magic dead sleep upright
on tavern tables.
the meanwhile of similarity
seems unique as ever
in the dew
the drama of young women
keeps repeating
anew anew anew.
by Bill Jansen
Editor’s Note: This poem’s nod to Poe offers an unexpected amusement for the mind.
2 thoughts on “…meanwhile by Bill Jansen”
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Sounds like it was written in that tavern while dead drunk. The best way.
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I write and drink to keep the kangaroos out of the dream.
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