Maxwell Bodenheim Poems : Death II
I
A fan of smoke in the long, green-white revery of the sky,
Slowly curls apart.
So shall we rise and widen out in the silence of air.
II
An old man runs down a little yellow road
To an out-flung, white thicket uncovered by morning.
So shall I swing to the white sharpness of death.
Submited by
Friday, May 13, 2011 - 02:05
Poesia Consagrada :
- Login to post comments
- 1305 reads
Add comment