Friday, 2 June 2017

day 26

the edge of the sun melds with the sky
thus the edge of my
heart burns the lungs around it
every breath only electrifies the clapping of my

catch the roar of ungulates stampeding in a concert hall
condense its stentorian peal
into a rubber ball
and you'd have an inkling

it's frayed around the edges now
the wear and tear has made it wrinkle
like a husk of bark from the
rhapsodic grandiloquent growth
of the unquenchable loath
of life

but it wont stop, it does not care
i pat it as a greying jockey
would pat fondly
his old mare

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