Sunday, March 5, 2017

She seas you


dreamt that you brought me
a bag of sand
for my hourglass

 the gold flecks sparked, alit by
the sunlight in your eyes, whereby
the ocean leaked

 and the bag was empty...

 certain it was you.




Painting by George Bellows (1917) in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
Labels: , , , , ,

No comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)

And then...

  Change is like that strong smell of cut grass or chopped wood that stops you still. Patterns, a symbol can be an illegible sign,  at first...

  • The Creative Process by e.e. cummings 1 and 2 (plus 5)
                         1. Of my Soul a street is: Preternatural Pic- abian tricktrickclickflidk-er garner of starfish Picasso...
  • An Other Song on the Jukebox Baby
    Today seems like a good day to burn a bridge or two. The sky resembles a backlit canopy with holes punched in it. In California...
  • Ex-isle
    This world  is not for breath for feelings also come and go. As hard and light as  Push and pull Go. Busy hands and  bees-electricity, alter...