Sad arrow rips
Feather fall from
Horizon-to-horizon-grey
Heavens; my heart is a
Lead-skin, slow drum.
Ghost-lit snow has
Settled on the stream:
Concealing all we
Thought we knew,
All we thought we had,
Or had dealt with;
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Sad arrow rips
Feather fall from
Horizon-to-horizon-grey
Heavens; my heart is a
Lead-skin, slow drum.
Ghost-lit snow has
Settled on the stream:
Concealing all we
Thought we knew,
All we thought we had,
Or had dealt with;
Posted in Paul, Poetry | 5 Comments »
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