Sunday, April 13, 2014

Daimones

I asked the old ones how to say thank you.
They told me to open my mouth and speak.
As soon as they left me in peace, I forgot.
I am like that. Absent-minded, hazy.

Wherever you wandered, did I follow,
or did you pursue me along the way,
souls of my soul, dread incense, sea-eagles,
piercing, with your fierce talons, a pale tree?

No comments:

when trees as gilded as bees

Above the 61st parallel, the colors of Autumn mark our parting with the bees, and the last days of real warmth. I had begun to transl...

popular on this site