deepundergroundpoetry.com
The red barn down yonder
His soul sits in ruin,
a weathervane falling,
falling toward the kiss
of a forsythia that grows beside it,
Alive and yellow —
as loud as the galaxy
made immortal by the crush.
a weathervane falling,
falling toward the kiss
of a forsythia that grows beside it,
Alive and yellow —
as loud as the galaxy
made immortal by the crush.
Published 12th Apr 2015
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comments 11
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12th Apr 2015 5:13am
12th Apr 2015 5:30am
12th Apr 2015 7:22am
Anonymous
12th Apr 2015 11:47am
Celestial words!
12th Apr 2015 6:34pm
12th Apr 2015 7:29pm
when d'roll is called down-yonder, there'll be nothing left to be...& at that , Bless'ed Be
yo short rites have gots good zip, subtle zing, (In the space of, uh, eeter'nity)
12th Apr 2015 7:59pm
13th Apr 2015 1:17am
13th Apr 2015 1:38am
13th Apr 2015 3:10pm
15th Apr 2015 1:20pm
