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alexander-wittePoems
I. I see the basin The river The dirt and filth on All Some look like raisin they shiver As their world would shrink so small I see the Lamb The Angel The Hexagram or crossed poles II. My mother told me to wear red on that day Though she wore yellow My mother told me not to yell on that day Oh, how she curtailed a fellow My father wasn't to be seen that day At that time he was scarce as a swallow I think my father wore green that day and so unlike my mother he could never wallow III. "Ark.." Shiver Sacred Candles The voice coaxed up from the mountains "Love...Thorn...Cup" Purple Tasseled Majesty IHS They say. Were the others?
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Feb 12, 2014
Feb 12, 2014 at 8:14 PM UTC
Just East Of Passover
I. I see the basin The river The dirt and filth on All Some look like raisin they shiver As their world would shrink so small I see the Lamb The Angel The Hexagram or crossed poles II. My mother told me to wear red on that day Though she wore yellow My mother told me not to yell on that day Oh, how she curtailed a fellow My father wasn't to be seen that day At that time he was scarce as a swallow I think my father wore green that day and so unlike my mother he could never wallow III. "Ark.." Shiver Sacred Candles The voice coaxed up from the mountains "Love...Thorn...Cup" Purple Tasseled Majesty IHS They say. Were the others?
alexander-witte
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alexander-witte
Feb 12, 2014
Feb 12, 2014 at 8:14 PM UTC
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