who forgets the wood
by a mere nightfall
that blind leap poised
at dawn?
cold less steady fingers
point to what's left
circle after circle
the gorges of the mind
this jesting one word
to the next
who forgets the bird calls
children of rivers and streams?
who inflames the surf?
the shattered hardness in the greater disorder
the mountains tied in knots
No comments:
Post a Comment