Not Enough
Almost
Carl Adamschick
The rain is almost
falling
like snow.
Some three a.m. car passes.
The corner utility pole
holds a cone of light
to its mouth
and is screaming
at the pavement.
We are almost here
suffering,
almost drifting through
the world without purpose
as the rain vanishes
in the darkness
beyond.
Carl Adamschick
The rain is almost
falling
like snow.
Some three a.m. car passes.
The corner utility pole
holds a cone of light
to its mouth
and is screaming
at the pavement.
We are almost here
suffering,
almost drifting through
the world without purpose
as the rain vanishes
in the darkness
beyond.