1637
5.176
24.vi.24
the wishing
aubade
it is a leaving
day begins from the
loss
left handed
here’s egg’s other
end
a roll the other way
a midst of all
as far as slept
abandon dreams at
this depart
beginning from a rise
of day
come bright
bed edging
in the breath of each
my evidence
we are trying to read
back into the night
whirl of the world
horizon treed
a howl for all first
things
then here’s my tribe
of light
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: only a member of this blog may post a comment.