Wednesday, 23 November 2016

UNTITLED 11.22.2016

Ask the wind and the rocks
How we shall ever breathe
That sweet flow of springtime
Ever last ever fleeting
And I will sing to you a dirge
Of lives cast down upon seas
Ever restless and then
Build a shrine to knowing
Unwound as yarn across
A cold stone floor
That this though ought
Oh downcast gaze oh aye
Here is a meadow even
A sun dapple side glance
If it be a dream of loss and
Yet I lay me down under
Gathered midnight

UNTITLED 11/22/2016
By Bob Paris (c)

photo: Art Zeller, 1990 (c) Bob Paris