Infinite Absurd…
(The fabric runs and runs through my thoughts and it's orange threads, so cleanly start to weave, a dress getting readied ...so....)
a mirror breaks into
pieces of wood chopped
her head brutally shakes…
she gets readied, they get steadied,
her tears of joy just get added to
the heart in her
bosom so firm and padded…
the grass of her garden is
black plate and black cup of
tea and coffee are two sisters that
weep and creep, swim and scoff…
her eyes gleam and
scream is heard and a thunderbird
flies the sky the orphan sky, whose father
left and right is the voice unheard…
I write the right as I left the left,
like the past poet’s grandiose theft,
her hair disheveled her cloth unkempt
its really you or some monk just dreamt?
No comments:
Post a Comment