Aug 272011
 

He cried to the sun to be no more
A part of his burning misery.
He cried to the brooding owl "No more
Shake down your bony glance, your fingering looks
That alter my heart's procession and my blood's course."
And he cried to the moon, the scolding moon,
"No more the tripwire of my conscience be
Threading your silver circuit through eternity;
Climb down, climb down from your bald perch:
Come taste the blood shreds on the ground."

Sorry, the comment form is closed at this time.