This poem came to me as I was driving to work a couple days ago, but once I wrote it down, it didn't really look very impressive.
Broken People
The sunlight cuts through you, splinters on the sidewalk.
Birds on a tree, fruits on a branch.
You reach out, but there is no nourishment.
Only distant memories
Of a frenzied darkness.
Actually I had first come up with the image of brittle shards of sunlight splintering on the sidewalk more than ten years ago, and it has stayed with me. I keep re-using it in various pieces, but never seem to be completely satisfied with the final effect.
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Life, or something like it: random thoughts, recollected and preserved; of little or no value.
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