When Brasidas took Amphipolis,
one surrendering citizen etched out
visions of the future,
the reoccurring melody,
on clay in some veranda –
*That throb from the fold to the ripple’s edge;
the flowered bank’s erosion.
The circulating noose and knife;
themes where fools wander.
A mound of nails;
where Iscariot’s shekels
buried thirteen withered stools.*
Jul 4, 2012
Jul 4, 2012 at 7:53 AM UTC
When Brasidas took Amphipolis,
one surrendering citizen etched out
visions of the future,
the reoccurring melody,
on clay in some veranda –
*That throb from the fold to the ripple’s edge;
the flowered bank’s erosion.
The circulating noose and knife;
themes where fools wander.
A mound of nails;
where Iscariot’s shekels
buried thirteen withered stools.*
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