“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Showing posts with label condensed. Show all posts
Showing posts with label condensed. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 16, 2016
Cryptic
The higher you rise
up where
the air thins out-
this is where the words find shape,
and demonstrate a sense of self
in clouds, collectively
condensed.
As stars do-to become
the letters eloped without utensils-
or implements, lightly
from thin air, trace
this thinking feeling is rain...
Astrologically out of touch
with dark matters, in suspense
hanging on the line-
elliptic.
I will wait and watch warrily,
until next time.
See you
around.
Painting By Henry John Stock (1853 – 1930) (Blouin Art Sales Index) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
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