deepundergroundpoetry.com
A dark coast.
In the islands of the bay
I sit by a windowside to
The plain day of the hour
In hay of the sun in
The moon of the beam rays
To the olden dark hours of the dawn
In the mutter of the ink in the dark coastal
Nights of the frentith of the hot day
I look upon the radar of the radiant
Keys of thew dark hours in there
Is column of the oak of the
Tint By the woods to sun in the palm
Of the train timber paper.
I sit by a windowside to
The plain day of the hour
In hay of the sun in
The moon of the beam rays
To the olden dark hours of the dawn
In the mutter of the ink in the dark coastal
Nights of the frentith of the hot day
I look upon the radar of the radiant
Keys of thew dark hours in there
Is column of the oak of the
Tint By the woods to sun in the palm
Of the train timber paper.
Published 18th Feb 2020
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