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Poetry || SubmissionsSkinsBy Colin Wolfe out of pieces of the world I build an insulation from the world I construct a skin and inner chambers moaning without fury within out of the hands lost on me I make a touchstone wall a comfort for visitors solid as if real the ringing like a bell echoes everywhere out of the shards of wind I fashion instruments and the singing disorients the sharpest ear bells and horns chime my skin's a drum a distant beaten lost drum Colin Wolfe is a poet and teacher in an American inner city high school. Here are some more poems of his to read Or you can write to him at ColinCW@compuserve.com Today's Situation
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