Monday, 19 March 2018

second hand prose

the husk pages of a book 
in seance with the summer wind,
restless across the corn field; 
the harvest of memory
that poets in memoriam be,
in their twilight days,
they have laid down the years. 
smell the must of their words
that they say “must be”,
they simply must be. 
wake up!

the storm approaches. 

No comments:

Post a Comment