if i could.
rip up shadows
of poles and plains
to turn them into trees
chisel every leaf
and bare veins bleeding into the rain
if i could
crease out a lake
drown the ripples
and watch a monologue
between the moon and a paper boat
but all I can afford
is to watch
the silent games
an empty room and the shadows play
but if i could
just mute the rain
and watch the land shiver
in their silent intimacy
1 comment:
diapassionate. or a violent need for communication. of whatever kind? i pride myself in understanding most of peoples poems.. but this is a wee bit above me.. would like to talk it over..
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