Driving for hours and still morning: the princess's white undergarments! It seems we were the only ______________. Imperceptible is the soul coming to request, like a lover in you as if to find the smallest star for which the constellation is named: Lorca somewhere else, sun going-down-like on a woman rolling my eyes back, fucked by tongue, the secret-myself-away, though there are names for it and tensions turn that way. Having fallen, not in English, no, the petals tear, the sands, uncomfortable, tilt, and the scents and dusts burn unnoticed. Burn. Black sun, yellow rocks, sand, no, black rocks, sun, yellow sand... strange, monumental, a day of look, trees, clouds, sky. Whitecaps stop 200 yards out and apron a sound like the lagoon opposite, its slavish rocks holding unsteadily, doing their jobs poorly and giddy besides.... One sail, birds soaring of a piece, how many birds? thank yous, the partings we call joy. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BRIDGE by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THREE HUNDRED THOUSAND MORE by ROBERT MORRIS MONDAY'S CHILD by MOTHER GOOSE TO-NIGHT by LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON BALLADE OF A TRAVELLER'S JINX by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS NIMROD: 2 by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH ON BEING SHEWN A BEAUTIFUL COUNTRY SEAT by ROBERT BURNS PROVERBIAL PHILOSOPHY: OF FRIENDSHIP by CHARLES STUART CALVERLEY |