TENTED INVALID

686
  0%
  0

Tags

I imagined a wounded person going into delirium. Outside and in there's battle. The wounded guy is a poet. There were probably "Futility" & "A Farewell To Arms" helping me along.

Rain-water. Light-feet. Life returns

in minute memoranda, ponds rise flooding,

empty ensilages open

and the slow-drift-winter edges over...

 

Over me the petals, dead or wasting,

flatter age with weak comparisons.

 

The rain's slow-water, light-feet,

under canvas, are the weather's, birds...

 

A worn phrase bludgeons over, over me

 

the light sheet falls, fists-fray, tents-fight.

 

Global Scriggler.DomainModel.Publication.Visibility
There's more where that came from!