Poetry Blogs (route)
In cloaks of words I wrap myself against the weather
Storms I conjured up as punishment.
Hands full of swords thrusting up out of the earth
The round route I take. Gazelles return again
To the brink, to drink. And me? To think.
So I skirt mans burning fire, hyena lurking
Laughing in the dark. A great arc I make
Like a dim sun at the end of his leash
Scribing the day across the sky...
Friday 27th October 2017 8:00 pm