Friday, October 13, 2006

Digital Camera

The history-cracks in my palm
cradle you as my eyes
peer into your square screen,
stare the length of my arm out
to a created earth. I see
blossoms and beatles,
bruised bodies and bent buildings
and sometimes there is more
colour in the tagging
than in the rainbow
in my garden.

1 comment:

Manature said...

Hi Karen,

Nice poetry you write. You should get it published.

And thanks for commenting on my blog Testing Blogger Beta