a rut of light
locks horns with pines
to loose
mercurial rills of gold,
gold licked and snatched
by manic leaves,
dribbling down
to vulgar shanties of decay.
even the swarth
of the filth that is death
luxuriates and swells,
guzzling the gift
sown from an infernal perch,
ramrodded
through unthinkable cold,
gold
that gilds sapphire,
impregnates green and crystals,
gold to stir
incarnadine cores.
Chris Crittenden, Maine, USA
2 comments:
Loved it. Beautiful blog!
wonderful! wow.
PS: Adding you to my WP blogroll now.
Post a Comment