> The Surviving, Rising Sun

The Surviving, Rising Sun

Par |2019-02-21T04:59:03+00:00 22 juillet 2012|Catégories : Blog|


Salubrious imp, I thought of the years unpas­sing,
Sleeping.  My dreams sent me to drought, and my
Own words spoke but no one lis­te­ned.  In the ear­ly
Morning, tiny birds of text drop­ped one by one,

And somew­here, someone held my book in her hands.
Life without its tor­ments, I can no lon­ger lis­ten.
Things shift from blue to blue, and my soul cleans
Up after­wards.  We are cham­pions, bur­de­ned like

Mules against the intel­li­gence of plates sol­de­red to
Our heads.  Think with me, the thirs­ty doub­ters
Have gone without war­ning.  This get­ting bent out
Of shape is like that feral cat in the yard.  Are we in a

State of grace ?  Someone shuf­fling by the ocean
Sees some­thing and laughs : the sur­vi­ving, rising sun.