I

Nocturnal is a motion,
men in corruption
rust at intervals of season.

This is not an intent
to be interpreted,
nor a search for universals,
seasoned with now.

The brain, tissue and synapses,
blood and expectation,
the view, the I,
the very moment
these words can describe,
this is what I am
here.




Poetry by Bob
Read 552 times
Written on 2011-08-24 at 20:21

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