Funnel Forms
By lupus tenebrae
It’s true,
the shortest grains
live mainly by the drain
In deathly, conical tangos
in
need of a muzak serenade
and gypsies wearing their best iron ore
with telling aluminum grins,
saying come hither, sleep.
Their charms win out
again,
and yes,
funnel
forms of
hourglasses, leaking
dunes upon mountains or
molehills,
cannot, will not stay the dreamscape, for long.
Ether,
waiting in the eaves, trained in sorts
of ESP, leaving bloodhounds
to snarl their envy away
as ill wasted
senses.
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Copyright 2012 lupus tenebrae
Published on Tuesday, June 12, 2012.
Filed under: "Reflective" and
"Poetry"
Author's Note:
I had a burst of inspiration, with no clear control over what became of it. It's a spin on a form I've done already.Comments on "Funnel Forms "
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On Wednesday, June 13, 2012, ColorMeToxic
(240) wrote:
I love the idea of the hourglass and gypsies. Beautifully written piece.