The Nail

Into days I thought
Would never come again
Through the stone gate
Where the black thread lies
Where the old tongue lives
Deep in the socket
Of one closed eye.
I am on a road
Which only I can determine
Dragging the yellow kite
That Icarus for winged purpose
Tore, searching for the nail
That once upheld the sky.

 
0
Kudos
 
0
Kudos

Now read this

Experiment for Homing Pigeons

A few confused sketches of tomorrow’s disaster is all we got: brief dark shadow of a chainsaw followed by a General’s stumped toe as it drifts likely as a bloody cloud of massacre (the best, most regal course) over a couple lousy matches... Continue →