on a field of blue and yellow
sky and gold
on plains of wheat
and cities of old
an ancient rain falling
fresh as blood
and raw as meat
a lone baby crying
an aria forgotten
and a mercy unsuckled
a prayer still screaming
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
-
Today has been a banner day: solid work prospects and a Washington Post Style Invitational three-peat : Report From Week 749 in which we ask...
-
It's not year's end, but we're nearly halfway there. Here's my running list of books read so far this year, in the order of ...
-
We know society exhibits moral outrage over serial killings, as well it should. But why the widespread apathy over the death throes of the s...
No comments:
Post a Comment