PrintPoem – Ghosts (By Michael H. Brownstein)
GHOSTS
I do not have a presence and she tells me she is a ghost.
Substance has that kind of weight.
You talk to the streams radiating from the edge of the river
as if each one were a snake that fat
and walk into an outer universe
to draw the night with color,
quick and simple,
exactly like life and everything else in this world.
[su_michael_h_brownstein]