Unbeknown

In my cavernous dwelling,
(A lookout tower or a cliffside cave) ,
I glare over the sea the wrong way,
Not the left way, as it should be;
Far sighted in eagle eyes,
Stinging from the fear of your sight.

Imagination stirs reddish moss
For hair, speckled hands soft to touch,
What face is staring at me there?
And, forever, without destination
Perth. About as far as a metro area can be,
As I home in this metroplex from Baltimore to Boston,
A steaming jungle of road rage
And the noise of relentless trafficjams
We do have great science and some
Poets of note, not no mountaintops
Of mirth and rattle, of shaking floors and flowers,
And mirth ridden beds.
But birds nest in my hoary head
And in my hoary hands.

They cannot stray if I make them stay.
Shut all the way, like now is my mouth,
Uncomfortably.

poem by Stan Petrovich
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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