Saturday, August 13, 2022

15,010. HOLES

HOLES
In the morning the sunlight
bevels : holes in the world
for the world to enter. I stand
aside and just let matter form.
My days of making are done,
no chalice holds a liquid, and
all my earthly hands are tied. 
-
Whatever these fools will make 
of their stance now, they will
make it  -  entry-ports for bad
or good. Not my problem any
longer. There's a man on a mast,
still hanging, as the morning
light arises, and another mist
sweeps through.

No comments: