Pre-dawn scene
peering into fog -
the street-lamps all have auras,
traffic obeys blobs.
Tail-lights pass like tracers,
only in slow motion,
through air dense
with water-vapour:
projectiles in ocean.
A ring-tail possum nibbles
at a last camellia bud,
before climbing
the ropes of vine
to my ceiling above.
Dreams of devastation
drove me from my bed -
scenes of desecration,
footprints wet with blood.
All of us are creatures
in the hands of God;
three of us are feline,
one of us is not…
Свидетельство о публикации №105070100119
Хоть я не понял нихрена!
Был мой английский окаянный
И в том учителя вина.
Неизвестный-Неизвестный 01.07.2005 15:27 Заявить о нарушении