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Louisville, CO/2000

Pour into glasses
and dreams slowly bubbly

Achieving islands uninterrupted rigging
dusk weeping face

Maybe the sky was blue beyond
Between Louisville was a stranded island

Within self-guzzler
Within pedestrian

Shoes stepped between snow
Who never stopped looking for shelter

Cold air from the storm outside
The islands are left in a staggered

The legs do not tick-early evening hours
in the hands of
Postcards lined in rooms such as mosaic bricks

poem by Imam Setiaji Ronoatmojo
Added by Poetry Lover
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