Posted by: Gregoryno6 | January 3, 2010

My keyhole blows a gale.

Some of my posts over the next few months may look familiar to some readers as I’ll be selecting the best items from my RedBubble archives and adding them here. And this is a personal favourite, a literary jewel concealed in a junk email.

Lucky the bell
Still full and deep of throat,
That only you and I can know.
Les deux Against this sky no longer of our world.
My keyhole blows a gale.
From there.
Toward . . .
Comes up with as a means to its own end.
The snowflakes are swirling, blotting out
They sit with their wives
All day in the sun, IV.
The Paths to Cathay coextensive with everything?
How could they know?
This gap in time, this season not their own,
Where, as I discover as I go through
Is the moon to grow with its lament, it often sounds, instead.
But snow has gathered there, has piled
In the dread circle hemmed by glaciers.
Are gliding toward me on the ice.
Into Bronze the sky, with no that rings,
With faithful tongue, its pious note

Somewhere, in this mad and crazy world, a minor genius missed their true vocation.


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