diatribe assault wind
diatribe assault windit is reckoning that waits
in the solemnity
where days tend to fiddle
and the ongoing
cautiously hovers about
the sanctimonious not in nature
but in the celebration
of the ending day
it is a curious thing
this wish for go for elements
seeping through the skin
taking all time of the world
to the behind
of a childish barn
where silence is absence
of summer grass bare feet
willingly destined old
the beast the I the curtain
I see in every wind
continually making it
to the attic
to the Illyrian fields
of centuries dreaming
in different shades
of human blood
it is there I say
not in the chatter
of long dead birds
I must rename all I see
every second
before
I fall asleep
Poetry by Bob
Read 728 times
Written on 2015-01-19 at 21:00
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 by Bob Latest textsI seldom walkthere’s a rumor there will be no full stop so many regrets who am I |
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