As i sat in line with the china and the rough cello jug <br />i heard my name whispered- a hallucination <br />sometimes words fly by and land dropp dead <br />in a sentence just expired from a mouth <br />they mingle and cause altercation and haggle <br />has the china noticed my subconscious signs <br />or has the cello warned the china in time <br />yes, yea, and a thousand times yes left <br />china's sesame whenever i peddled my <br />blood and tears- i am hawked off <br />for a pus drain<br /><br />Michael Witkowski<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-name/
