there is
the king
his wings
cut
and his
claws numb
he yawns
the waste
land
mirrors his
longing
do not
tickle
the king
he will cry
and howl
he does not
want to
laugh
in his
loneliness
there is
the king
he needs
a mind to touch
now
there was the
king
he will go
without a
smile
sand and
pebbles
follow his
steps
trembling
the earth
turns
the mind
turns
the king
turns
the milk
turns
there are
clots in the sky
and the sun
is black
No comments:
Post a Comment