ekkis
|
poetry = nonsense
nonsense = meaninglessness
meaninglessness = void
void = nothingness
nothingness = spirit
nonsense = meaninglessness
meaninglessness = void
void = nothingness
nothingness = spirit
Black Clad |
---|
Black clad
a line of crows
by the edge
of his earthen bed
they stand.
A restless soul
now quiet.
From her
the obligatory rose.
A few words
swallowed by the wind.
In her mind,
an embrace.
She was
the most delicious thing
he ever ate.
[8/13/01] Copyright © 2011 Erick Calder |
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