Wednesday, September 21, 2005

Asleep




At last asleep
A slur
A wicked mind
Laid to waste
By all the world’s murmuring
Its gentle mayhem
Its leaping octopus
MADNESS
Perchance, perforce, to dream
To wake
Tired
In a tired worn out world
Ready for fire
For the flame
And smoke
The blood and cracks
The steam and ooze
Of childbirth
And new shoots
Red and green
On either side
Of this amber sleep

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