wb :

my room-
filled with
magazines- newsweek, popular science;
books, both old
and new- boccaccio, dante,
to goethe, then gabriel garcia marquez,
asimov, nietzsche,

and the bed; beside it,
music through the ages- bach, bach, williams,
the heart asks pleasure first,
danse macabre beside canto alla vita,
but we're all living in amerika anyway.

then the computer.
chock full of useful junk,
useless thoughts,
games and games, and
my link to the other world out there.
my other link to the world out there.

but in my room,
what is really mine

but these words?

Labels: poetry