Wednesday 21 May 2008

Time enough to rot


Time enough to rot;

Toss overhead

Your garden ball of blood;

Breathe against air,

Puffing the light's flame to and fro,

Not drawing in your suction's kiss.

Your mouth's fine dust

Will find such love against the grain,

And break through dark;

It's acrid in the streets;

A paper witch upon her sulphured broom

Flies from the gutter.

The still go hard,

The moving fructify;

The walker's apple's black as sin;

The waters of his mind draw in.

Then swim your head,

For you've a sea to lie.

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