Sunday, June 21, 2009

Four Red Flags and a Blue

The manicured lawn
in perfect plant
supposed the wild
in suffused perception...
the soya of cover
will creep to corrupt.

Watered and mowed
in the cuddy moors
of shared misfit,
a coming together of 
the smelling is sweet
in the laughter of youth.

A stab at the gist
of a disciplined disciple
who knows the share
of divining light...
at the base of a pentacle.

No comments:

Post a Comment