Tuesday, June 18, 2024

Organizing Flowers into a Bouquet


Under Wednesday's umbrella
We shape our eternal dress
Did you avoid trying to say that
Glowing in jars of youth.
Breathing out layer-cakes.
We've grown silent
In these last careful months.
The marshland of notebooks
Many remaining instruments
And the hint of citrus twist 
Our words into a particular curve.
This one here and that one there.
Is much of what it all comes down to.
Until stepping away we see 
A thought no one 
not even you
Knew you could think. 

 

No comments:

The music will still be perfectly wonderful

It outlives our letters  simply there against  the thrashes of loneliness  among the check out counters,  wildly spaced  like the words in a...