I am from the edge of static breathing
Its own life through the radio and
From the countless poems that bloom
And I wish to the planets I
Had written them.
The atlas of my skin
Is diverse and untraveled,
Even to me.
If you have never seen
The virgin sun’s secrets
Shattered by solitude
And mountain peaks or never
Counted the lines on a wave
Reaching the shore finally I
Could learn from you.
Well, I write poetry, and I like to think I'm good at it. You should read them, Lots of people have said they're beautiful, And I like them well enough. So really. Read this blog.
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