in plazas calcined pure white, bulls charge troublesome swarms of wasps. the realm of hypothesis suspended in the amphitheatre amid endless empty tiers. what could we be today, love, now that we know we're not here? so has chance decided, the automaton sings the story of its perfect mechanism gone mad on a level with the heart. far away, on a wall of stone, sentiment has built a nest, eagle-eye stares hard at infinite matter, our egestion of reason, orphaned milky curd. to sleep, the heart seeks soft breasts, the body's singing harmony rouses monsters. in the shallows at low tide it palpitates inside a trench of sand. Used by permission of Story Line Press. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ADVICE TO A RAVEN IN RUSSIA by JOEL BARLOW THE PURPLE COW by FRANK GELETT BURGESS THE LAST MAN: RAIN by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES FOR THE QUEEN MOTHER by JOHN BETJEMAN MR. STOTHARD TO MR. CROMEK by WILLIAM BLAKE |