Off
large eye remained stranded
drift sorting
lips wedged between bone combs and noise
undertow.
A woman threw her long hair thesis
blacks and arpeggios music whispers
on those strings And bats with faces of children in the light purple
whistled and clapped their wings *
gloves hanging from his arms that mimic
forget caresses
scrape together between the hours. Brushing hair
and boredom. Exact time is his
lagoon.
And crawled head downward down a blackened wall And upside down in air were towers
resounding reminiscent of bells, that kept the hours And voices singing
Fund empty cisterns and exhausted wells .*
between pages crackle with unspoken
paint the face
deleting expression. And I
weaving hair masks. Of the remaining lace and
his hours.
large eye remained stranded
drift sorting
lips wedged between bone combs and noise
undertow.
A woman threw her long hair thesis
blacks and arpeggios music whispers
on those strings And bats with faces of children in the light purple
whistled and clapped their wings *
gloves hanging from his arms that mimic
forget caresses
scrape together between the hours. Brushing hair
and boredom. Exact time is his
lagoon.
And crawled head downward down a blackened wall And upside down in air were towers
resounding reminiscent of bells, that kept the hours And voices singing
Fund empty cisterns and exhausted wells .*
between pages crackle with unspoken
paint the face
deleting expression. And I
weaving hair masks. Of the remaining lace and
his hours.
MCT
* TS Eliot's The Waste Land in What the thunder said , p. 139.
Image Dame, Federica Lampis.
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