Tuesday, June 22, 2004

Sitting inside, then going somewhere

The silence-gears rotated in glass.
I, too, without a mouth,
was etched leaping in the oval
of that silence!

But afterwards the twilight graininess,
a clump of grass and the empty streets
I clattered across like a bastard;
When it waves, that means it could speak.









0 Comments:

Post a Comment

<< Home

Powered by Blogger