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Literature Text
my Imagination is tired;
It is older than I,
and I am dustier than my body.
My body mocks sobriety,
every clay fiber twisted
with pieces of batteries;
I sometimes lack the patience
to put up with my body.
it seems childish at times
(except the hands).
my Imagination condescends us both.
Its words are full of gray linoleum
and cracked mosaics; it has seen things
cast shadows like giants'.
It is older than I,
and I am dustier than my body.
My body mocks sobriety,
every clay fiber twisted
with pieces of batteries;
I sometimes lack the patience
to put up with my body.
it seems childish at times
(except the hands).
my Imagination condescends us both.
Its words are full of gray linoleum
and cracked mosaics; it has seen things
cast shadows like giants'.
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Sometimes my honesty will not behave itself.
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Comments11
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The imagery is great. I like it a lot. The third stanza seems somewhat incongruous with the rest of the poem...? Only because you asked for critique 