1608 Pomegranate's hot in the sun Barefoot on the pavement Held breath for the iron press, Agape beaked, still Bird, become an icon of heat: This present comprises a life, And past summers a template make Of the humid air, Your pebbled sole, the songless bird. The warmth of the fruit is but a memory of coolness.
20 June 2011
1607
19 June 2011
1606
18 June 2011
1605
17 June 2011
1604
16 June 2011
1603
14 June 2011
1602
13 June 2011
1601
12 June 2011
1600
09 June 2011
1599 In what creatures do comparisons span twixt Cogitation's idles, And grasp what may not be held? Most are to the present issue Bound, wanting no stranger feedback, But our space is with words suffused, That multiply what they name. Creation is not with purpose But potential ached, a bridge In a maze between states.