My latest original five-line poem.
The Gravel Mosquitos
i wander into the night, stumbling upon black pavement
gravel eating into my skin like lifeless mosquitos
and look up; stars bite through the city lights, the smog,
demanding to be seen, to be heard, through drunken ears,
“We’re all dead up here.”
And as sometimes is the case, I like to offer what I was listening to while crafting my latest poem: