Cloud, white as
toothpaste, stole mountain,
now but
finger-tipped with fir trees
and shadowy lovers’
stacked backs
beyond the
water-fresh greenness
of my garden’s
greenest greenery.
Cloud japanesed
mountains
made colossal with
minute droplets
cold and softly
breathed onto my face;
distance beyond
distances, carried me far
through flatlands
beyond, and cities beyond
till under sail
travelled over, past all knowing.
No comments:
Post a Comment