By Aurin Squire
In arbored hollows I carve these songs.
Chariots driven by beasts of sound.
Yolked to heavy burdened cries,
I ride the words like Cavalry.
Whipping equine legs and breast.
Necklaced blood on cavern chest.
Round and round faster the pace pressed,
under the measured driving stress.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
-
I knew of the great Hannibal Barca, but had no idea who Massinissa was until tonight. I went to see "Massinissa" at the Poets Den ...
-
"I am that I AM" אהיה אשר אהיה -Exodus 3:14 I'm doing research on The Holocaust. In 2013 the world will mark the 80th... -
In Buddhism we get very technical and specific about how to move the winds and channels in the body to achieve certain results. The past...
No comments:
Post a Comment