a fortress
in shallow greys and blonde tresses
a fortress
empty as the surrounding desert
the giant face
of the entrance wall
with eyes, wide, penetrating
barbed lashes at the ready
granite-lipped drawbridge sealed tight
the mouth snaps
creaking shrilly in the wind
a whispering, questioning breeze
blowing ever out, sometimes gently
but sometimes a blasting gale
those mocking eyes brook no entry
that sharp-toothed mouth denies all refuge
that emptiness will not be stained
by the passage of travellers
Sunday, May 19, 2013
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
witness
there's something about living on the corner of a highway intersection. during the night, and when it's really early and relatively...
-
i. i sit quietly watching the man seeking my soft spots with nimble fingers sliding in the needles, head, neck, belly, arms i'm froz...
-
Click on the post title if you don't see the content
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.