Burnt land cover
our roots and as dried flowers in vases.
Darkness stow it in a form close
floating close to the one hope: the ears
fair harvest.
But for planting in community
what is the money to pay?
bow to the throne of the West? Cancel
the footsteps at every turn?
dying out as convoluted crosses?
February 15, 2011
our roots and as dried flowers in vases.
Darkness stow it in a form close
floating close to the one hope: the ears
fair harvest.
But for planting in community
what is the money to pay?
bow to the throne of the West? Cancel
the footsteps at every turn?
dying out as convoluted crosses?
February 15, 2011
© John Abbate. All Rights Reserved.
0 comments:
Post a Comment