(Alice finely mused)


A Hand Too Holed

Look here Alice there's a hole in your hand
moonbeams do dwell and intertwine
do tell I dig yon paradigm
Is not too difficult to understand,

There are monstrous hours in a glass of shadowsnipes
Yipes the grass is rampant orange and mown in half
While the groans of telephones die to recharge
Precious dear I frear the mere are still at large,

So bathe the clock in wreathes of rust eternal springs
Unlock your ghosts they're likely lost so far from where
I know them by the faces painted on my low window
Mum by word ears are heard recite some sand,

Look here Alice there's a hole in your h a n d .And
appears to see you through .




Poetry by Chaucer Whethers The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 599 times
Written on 2012-12-06 at 16:30

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