Day: Mar 10, 2017
As the sound of every cellful thing arches its wowsly way
within my molten mind, the stars stand still as if saluting
what has gone before, till twilight paints itself in patterns
predetermined by the rays [I marvel for an obscene while]
flung by the sun in front of this young poet’s doors, ablaze,
and in all craziness he bows before its wisdom with a smile.