Rainbows

Fat rounded rainbows swirled with mad colors
around blistering white summer sun;
spinning faster and faster,
growing in width and intensity
over every square solitary rooftop,
a mad coil exploding in sudden intensity,
a vivid something you might
actually touch with your eyes.

Thus I sailed with my No harm done into
the Never say goodbye,
severely blinded by the sweltering sun,
with ways unknown of the wild coming,
with no other tubular concern
than the forefront of all myths
and their delirious makers
at the axes of all one can testify to.

It is never too late to allow visions,
it is never too late to
put on the radio
where lutes and a tribal twirl
colors the mood you are.
I am the I that that walks with the Whether or,
touring the landscape of you,
never doubting the calling continuation.





Poetry by Bob
Read 453 times
Written on 2011-01-12 at 21:41

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