Wednesday, June 28, 2017

The dark makes the most of language

as do dreams.
A simple line goes a long way in the dark
and in a poem, line breaks curve;
the brakes, disassembled.  
There is no thought
of summery salads --
haphazard & giddy
with color.
Perhaps, simply said,
this is

1 comment:


    She kneels down to feel the change of heights in measuring the newly mowed lawn, and sees the flowers that have fallen. A slight pull of the curtains in the anteroom of the palace signals the presence of a guardian. She wonders without speaking, where is the courier who brought her a message, and why did he leave without a kiss?