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The way to look at life is upside down,
Head rolled to shoulder, chin to sky:
Inside heaven, buried folk all snug,
Rodents burrowing upwards, tunnels dug
Towards the stars, and brambles high
Yodeling where dipsy leaffish drown.
Everything presses up: The fiesty crown
Interred as toes sunk deep in a grassy rug,
Green nimbus, awaiting orders to fly;
Hawks circling below, the sun a shrug
To reason us towards where things rightside lie.
All poems: copyright by
Nicholas Gordon
Free scrapbook poems
permission to use
provided by the author. |
