2005/11/11
when
when
the days
nights
when none are here
what moon is this ? is it the flow of bright?
or nays a sense of english grammars
their garbled crabbed days
beauty of a woman
travels she home
across scent of time
space and its gathers
some garden that touches its spoiled pasture a t the type writer the echo of Siren the mast
seen ebb forever the right
arm swaying when the dancer lifts the coffin
the column
kenosis of air shape and desire the sparrow
inside of every station your smile
the days
nights
when none are here
what moon is this ? is it the flow of bright?
or nays a sense of english grammars
their garbled crabbed days
beauty of a woman
travels she home
across scent of time
space and its gathers
some garden that touches its spoiled pasture a t the type writer the echo of Siren the mast
seen ebb forever the right
arm swaying when the dancer lifts the coffin
the column
kenosis of air shape and desire the sparrow
inside of every station your smile
By
Clifford Duffy