Sunday, August 28, 2011

Practice Prompts Sunday 11:15

What has been gathered

A snowflake, a feather

Cut off the telephone

Sweep up the wood

No sun, no sea, no light rising

I do not quite recall the face, tho light still glows

Pause, but then get on

The earth will lightly cover them

My little man, my man, what gave me life

The greatest, inside the smallest

The streets are cold, the houses dark

After the shipwreck, the reef and pretty fishes

After snow, what a tree!

There were people who loved him, who hoped

Whatever intent the sky

Like a ship, some say, as it dips from sight

How was it? Before? After?

Into clay, and yet I hear breathing

Listen, you need to understand...

What it was was money, what it was was waste

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