our landscape trembles
in a storied web
worn cold with weather
whitewashed for another day
*
the door opens and shuts
waiting for her
the immortal one and her music
played under a cloud
of the church organ
a hundred years old
*
sun behind a cloud
piercing, transparent
folded in the leaves of grass
in a dream
of another world
*
daytime lullaby
in the meadows around our feet
grown free
until they carry us off
in a child’s dream
*
whisked to another time
in the pre-dusk hour
when light begins to turn
shade-by-shade
to a nighttime dream
*
carved among the woods
in shadows etched in ink
as night unfolds
on the skulls
of whitewashed lies
*
dark waters
burst in the moonlight
of distant dreams
*
history
made once more
on the bed of useful lies
Year:
2017
Forums:
Reviews
No reviews yet.