Back to Poetry Page

MICAH ROBINSON'S

(2/19/97 TUESDAY)
WRITTEN SAME

What shall I write today? Anything and
everything is blank. Am I going mad, is
my mind gone away to stay? Is it all
together mad? Are we here or there,
a country day a clear blue sky a warm
cool breeze. A tall figure a dark space
an empty mind an endless space are
we all alone in this cold world with
nothing but emptiness all around
is it all finally over?