This poem is a vehicle, a garage, not made of language

This poem is a vehicle
This poem is a garage
This poem is not made of language

Open the door and hop in
I’m in for a wild ride, mr toad
Take me somewhere I’ve never been
Take me down the unseen road

Here is the house
The bedchamber for Buicks
In the world yet not the weather
In the words are the walls

Come along, be bold
Leave that baggage
Let that unswerving story lie
Untold

This poem is a vehicle
This poem is a garage
This poem is not made of language

20190223

 

http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2019/02/wordy-thursday-with-wild-woman-hannahs.html

13 thoughts on “This poem is a vehicle, a garage, not made of language

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