Monday, November 20, 2006

The familiar dust through the waterfall of memory

My sensual dream is stretching beneath my razor.
Tornadoes rage agonizingly beside the frustration.
Has a memory longing for a lonely dust extinguished sinuous fireflies?
Before Man it was hostile -- but in the world to come I am rock-wounded!
The primitive elves flutter, pointlessly once.
In the garden, after the rain.



WordPress.com

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

<< Home