Night underfoot
Back creased, mouth dry
Clouds part, sun breaks
Won't stop
Overhead glory
Inferior are right and left
This temple is motion
This frame shifts
Madness writ gold
I speak with the tongue of holy men
My dust is the dust of ages
Worship crawls my skin
Afterward, fades
Crunch of gravel
Whistle of wind
Road, again, road
Day ends
Sun breaks, clouds close
Mouth creased, eyes dry;
King's progress.
No comments:
Post a Comment