Algeria
| filed under: Poem, Poet, Poetry, Poems
I think I must have been obsessed with Camus at the time of this poem.
I shake slightly;
My mind trembles under
Strong coffee and things
All too clear within their
Little sterile work rooms.
I see Algiers,
Wish for that cleansing
Powerful sun-without-shade:
Purging the shadows and
Reflecting the stark into
my mind -- lucidity.
©1995 chris abraham