Prehysteric Meteorites
It is the color of amake believe home,
a mastodon
burdened by hope -
In its sinews I think
to the ocular drift
of a generation
that thought itself
into vegetation ...
The long
tooth curled inwards;
Two and two
dozen years spent
hanging in skies
until solitary light
opens its dirty mouth ...
It speaks of a color,
a warning of
brilliance just before
impact.
Poetry by Charlie fan
Read 803 times
Written on 2008-02-17 at 04:21
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