horns sound, flees the sun
men tire, day’s undone;
blue is wrung to grey,
rendered with a gasp,
and tar night, foul
as a steel pike, or
frau Troost’s onyx soul,
settles on the world
like a cyclone blanket
in a concrete shower.
Feb 17, 2014
Feb 17, 2014 at 6:35 PM UTC
horns sound, flees the sun
men tire, day’s undone;
blue is wrung to grey,
rendered with a gasp,
and tar night, foul
as a steel pike, or
frau Troost’s onyx soul,
settles on the world
like a cyclone blanket
in a concrete shower.