There is a crow standing in the roadway.
Doom flies quickly away when it hears my coughing.
Autumn comes again with all its colors.
Trees are prisms for a moment, ‘til the weeping.
I have seen memory’s broken glass door.
It opens like new seeds from fruit, or a woman.
I recall Pirithous, long at his feast.
It is an ambitious thought, to steal the stolen.
Lady, dark as angry skies, forgive me.
I gave you no choice, now the earth is perishing.
No comments:
Post a Comment