By Tohm Bakelas
throwing rocks at the sun
never mattered anyway,
you could never come close
to hitting it
the bones of the typewriter
covered in dust
rests upon a table
rarely touched
there are no horses here,
no horses you can
see anyway
trains come and go
and our limbs settle
for this
Tohm Bakelas is a social worker in a psychiatric hospital. He was born in New Jersey, resides there, and will die there. His poems have appeared in numerous journals, zines, and online publications. He has published 10 chapbooks. He runs Between Shadows Press.
