STILL
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still
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Rolling rrrrrrrrr's
flow turbulent lights
like ghost bulb's,
filaments of stone
can't see in the dark
the waves that wash the pavement clean,
glistening in the major c
colour that pervades the sky
the aurora in the mind's own eye
finds in that fog the image through
the most wonderful specter to haunt
soul's dream, the one recurring fantasy
the shade that is you
YOU ARE READING
She, Infinity
Thơ caI mean to place sight within the constraints of sound and drive it into the bed rock, the foundation of feeling, literally rather than metaphorically.
