Empty Room
A. S. J. Tessimond
The clock disserts on punctuation, syntax. The clock's voice, thin and dry, asserts, repeats. The clock insists: a lecturer demonstrating, Loudly, with finger raised, when the class has gone. But time flows through the room, light flows through the room Like someone picking flowers, like someone whistling Without a tune, like talk in front of a fire, Like a woman knitting or a child snipping at paper.
Next 10 Poems
- A. S. J. Tessimond : Epilogue
- A. S. J. Tessimond : Epitaph For Our Children
- A. S. J. Tessimond : Epitaph On A Disturber Of His Times
- A. S. J. Tessimond : Flight Of Stairs
- A. S. J. Tessimond : Houses
- A. S. J. Tessimond : June Sick Room
- A. S. J. Tessimond : Last Word To Childhood
- A. S. J. Tessimond : Meeting
- A. S. J. Tessimond : Music
- A. S. J. Tessimond : Never
Previous 10 Poems
- A. S. J. Tessimond : Earthfast
- A. S. J. Tessimond : Don Juan
- A. S. J. Tessimond : Discovery
- A. S. J. Tessimond : Day Dream
- A. S. J. Tessimond : Cocoon For A Skeleton
- A. S. J. Tessimond : Cinema Screen
- A. S. J. Tessimond : Chaplin
- A. S. J. Tessimond : Cats 1
- A. S. J. Tessimond : Cats
- A. S. J. Tessimond : Black On Black