I've been sitting
in my overstuffed chair,
a dictionary on my lap,
waiting for a roc to come.
I want to see that
mythical bird fly
down, a great pet of
the gods, perhaps
a god herself.
They say she can
carry away an adult
elephant with one
snatch of her claws.
I want to be here
in this chair when
she comes, when the
shadow of her wings
colls the sun,
and we sit in
silent anticipation
for that terrifying and wonderful
first feeling of flight.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
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4 comments:
a true great
I was hoping this would be a poem about Jay-Z and the rest of the old Roc-a-fella Records crew.
This is great. I've always loved rocs.
Great
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