Sam Campbell

I am the wasted ink
of a midafternoon doodle,
hoping for a frame,
but destined for the junkyard universe.
Maybe I’ll burrow into some garbage bag galaxies,
or hermit crab my way into a coffee cup.
Or maybe the wind will pick me up
and throw me into a group of the other wrinkled doodles—
huddling around a furnace,
until we paint ourselves
onto the underbelly of a cloud
crawling over the sunset.
The revolution of an unwanted cult.

©2012 This work is the property of the author.


Posted on November 8, 2012, in POETRY, Sam Campbell and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.

  1. MM welcomes Sam Campbell with two excellent poems. This is the first…

  2. Under a last sun,in an underbelly underground doodle of a poem when lost counter forces in life with precursors of nature vie with being alien in a mysterious life and death cult and culture.

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