Follow by Email

Friday, July 29, 2011

Poem 68



So innocent is the blindness

Of chaos, its syllables

A slow music floating to a grave



Matter disintegrating

Like the taste of expensive time.





Observe. Supernatural explosions.





Dying is a dull progress

An impatient process

Of recovering

Moons as yet unborn.



Supernatural implosions.  Observe.











Jerry W. Ward, Jr.

July 28, 2011

No comments:

Post a Comment