Sunday, August 21, 2011

Dust

By the seaside
from a ageing tree
hangs a purple light
under which the dead
suture the sea with the sky
when the earth sleeps,
They walk along the ocean
talking about saloons where
these lights are sold
with poisonous tails
for nothing more than
this poem's price...

2 comments:

  1. dang!
    you're really good
    you see things as they ought be seen
    rick

    ReplyDelete
  2. Rick,
    a drink to that....seeing is believing after all...and you believed...

    ReplyDelete