The Holy GrailA Poem by Leslie Philibertas it ismagic or wood or lost in light inside of heaven, silver-struck to press against dry lips hands sanded with night air O Aramaic song ! a copse perfect with faces but for all this the common is round ; a plastic cup on a dirty table in a roadstop thrown next to a route, sick with neon. so say this;read this; the banality of a miracle is always hidden
© 2014 Leslie PhilibertReviews
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7 Reviews Added on July 10, 2014 Last Updated on July 10, 2014 AuthorLeslie PhilibertBavaria, GermanyAboutI`m not important. I just want to write a couple of good poems. Just read what I write. That`s enough. more..Writing
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