Total Pageviews

Saturday, July 14, 2018

spiral harp pooned



No love caresses my trellised lair
Ghost birds old songnests
Wind wrecked valley
Where no love hatches never eggs
By the peck so deep
It chips my firm
-ament. Blue morning growl,
No love found me
Surrounded in her tornado castle
Bricks flying mote by mote
Only a spiral harp of ivory remains

No comments: