(Poem #429 on new numbering scheme)
Here in the world, all the sky is afraid, and its gaze is compelled – bent
down – so its motionless countenance glowers horizonward, clouds gray.
(Poem #429 on new numbering scheme)
Here in the world, all the sky is afraid, and its gaze is compelled – bent
down – so its motionless countenance glowers horizonward, clouds gray.