I said more than a week ago that I was going to focus on poetry solidly for
a week. With special emphasis on internal consistency. A good first step
towards that? It has no title.
flame trees sleep off
the fretting birds
and the boy climbing
for all he's worth,
just to see what
the tree can tell
from its sluggish doze,
through cauterised green eyes.
on the ground
i am perspective/convergence,
a meeting angle bisecting
just beyond his focus.
climbing down quick,
he has seen with vegetable eyes,
and goes shrugging off foliage,
the narcoleptic pace of trees.
--
http://nathanhondros.blogspot.com
|