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