Tuesday, 9 June 2015

At the intersection of insomnias

There are wild swans
that shape forests and lakes
tiptoeing that offers interlude 
to birdsong and conversation-drip
from leaf and sky,
a kalagediya and solitude;
there's a knife being cut by heart
words that are overtaken by words
a stumbling more firm
than stride and stop sign;
and tonight
as cut-glass and blood 
sack-cloth humility
and the crossing of ash
a Franciscan at your door
to wait
for the collapse of centuries
and the proscription of words. 

1 comment :

  1. too beautiful. love this. you take me to another world. sometimes that's consolation.