I drive the Karma down the Dharma
to see the April Maya...
Halfway to the shifting sands of time
(a set that soon
be taken down
and folded in a truck)
to pluck the rock from the Roc
in a field by Little Ponton, stop -
forgotten setting off
too long to go for destiny to register...
White prunus blossom lines the lane;
this is what's real, the road movie.
Brendan smiles at that
as we unload.
..............
American style free verse.
YOU ARE READING
The Singing Season
PoetryThe Singing Season. That's the spring-time. You'll also like other MajorSeventh poetry collections - and there are so many to choose from.
