You made rude moorings with your words,
Tied them to listing posts in the dark,
Read by starlight.
The rushes fell and blew,
Creased by the wind and your intermittent ear.
A roaming radio, a wave-length
Snagged on the cock of an ear,
The pricking of needles.
September 10, 2001
2 weeks ago
No comments:
Post a Comment