.
within the perfect circle of a sigh,
one thought grips the surface
of a sphere I wish to slice apart,
but telescoped within the eye
as bas-relief for lake and sky,
it punctuates
a lonely morning star
until this unmooned contemplation
travels light
towards a smokeless arc
of swan-black night
posted by name of the rose at 7:58 a.m.
1 Comments:
I really dig your style and thanks for stopping by BBU, later.....
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