Dry aether* is endured by hums and docile,
snugs tightly as a serpent in a burrow,
digesting painfully nirvana, tossing
around the molted chat. And snaky furrows,
imprinted by unsettled hunger, crossing
the hissing lines and rivers of pure aura.
A bitter tang of something more colossal
that triggers guns and numbs a silence over...
A spring will take itself in hand, its tinctures
start feeding out of palms this brittle stillness
of smoky rains and bloomy trepidations.
A well of heart, each drop’s a perfect picture
of certain past and future colors’ shrillness.
Undying tear’s a soul of my creations.
June 18, 2010
*aether - a medium that was once supposed to fill all space and to support the propagation of electromagnetic waves
Sonnet VIII
© Copyright: Юрий Лазирко, 2010
Свидетельство о публикации №110061808164
Свидетельство о публикации №110061808164
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