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Reading seasons between the lines of a palm (idea)

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(idea) by izubachi Sat Mar 12 2005 at 21:41:36
Sky tried sunny, 
                 stuck with grey. 
Winter-starved branches claw its underbelly. 
   She leaves graceless footprints 
in the orchard's corridors. 

Here too, she recalls with precesion
his hand measured the length of her curves-- 
   noonday light-washed cerulean
shivered into focus, resonant. 

Summer fled. 
             Fall lingered on. 

Clutching at dead leaves,
   he crackled, 'what's wrong?' 
Nothing.
Everything. 

                Sky tried sunny, 
stuck with grey. 
She imagines repairing broken promises,
sucking sap from the veins,
gluing bark to the holes,

with frost-worn fingertips.

Category:

  • «  Noders' poetry  »
I like it! 1 C!
Now I am become grey, the creator of worlds I remember endless white corridors Because he feared the turn of seasons I come to you all dressed in sound
gamelan Tree of Knowledge While you were waiting, God vacated the premises We suck Young Blood
your words... like wind through a wheat field. Your Ending Here Little burning petals Why the world is more beautiful with a creator
We are trapped in the belly of this horrible machine, and the machine is bleeding to death nuclear winter Orville Fell
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