Posted by kid a on October 11, 2002, at 20:29:51
I Am, You Are
Monstrous, this
Stillborn silent breeze
rasping at the trees
like bleached bone.
Summer is fading at
the crest, the yellow
bell of the tulip
falls in slumber.
England is grinding
to it's halt, the
snow, long long
gone, buries
no dead. It fades
by the break of day.
Love, Oh my, the
treacherous
Season we enter, the
crisp fall
of twilight--- the
Zephyr of cold that
bites at the skin.
Fags in the
rasp of winter, the
Ichor, loosed from
my veins. Oh, Greybeard,
who crawls to an empty
Orchard, the thick palls
of leaves, cover me.
Oh summer, my summer,
season of the sweetest
lust, I shan't say we'll
meet againe.October 10th, 2002.
poster:kid a
thread:31059
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/social/20021010/msgs/31059.html