Pages turn; aimlessly swirl
about empty halls
on an intruding draft,
their knowledge erased
by rain falling through
comet holes in a cathedral ceiling.
Names and faces, dates and places
seep through this broken library's
tiled floor, quenching the thirst
of persistent tree roots...
1 month ago
1 comment:
Dang it..I voted for the Weeping Way. It sounds so interesting to me as this poem "Lost Knowledge" was--I think we should start a writer's guild in this blog village--so much talent all around.
CLAY
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