It seems to be
It seems to be
crooked steel beards
pointing out in disorder.
You will live in time
in
it, a mansion
echoing your soft whispers
and your gait in every mirror.
Feb 18, 2014
A dead person
echoing your soft whispers
and your gait in every mirror.
Feb 18, 2014
A dead person
A
dead person
cannot
argue or maim
but
he must be somewhere
grasping
with his hands
shouting
dry his throat,
if
in life
no
opening would let him peep into
a
garden of roses.
Feb 18, 2014
Some note I took
Some
note I took
to
remind me of matters life or dead.
In
an altered time, altered mind,
I
picked it up again
and
threw it into the dustbin.
2014/2/18
A shadow
A shadow
A
shadow
of a
bamboo grove
on a
wall,
a Jackson
Pollock masterpiece.
The
moonlight paints without hands
while
Jackson dances a monkey dance.
2014/2/18
No comments:
Post a Comment