rumpleA Poem by Paulafor Diego
the purple bloom of granny’s bonnet where comes the moth to vitalise oh columbine! ... the mouse moth, the dot moth...
doves cloistered and dispersed green horizon rumple. shudder down the mad reasons why powder makes a mess around here.
and now Diego’s gone, aswell... the youngest wood smokes the most oh columbine!, the fires crack, the coldness stays
and what remains? I thought it were a sadness of just one time and just one place but no: the window flies
in fierce wind, and's hurled against the house again, and again, and again
... how many times before it comes: that a bruise is death but isn’t known by those who rage in blinding smoke?
© 2013 PaulaReviews
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Added on June 22, 2013Last Updated on July 8, 2013 |