"rustical" poems
Time and Wind raced the wallowing skies,
speeding past spiraling leaves,
glorying triumphal in veiled in lies,
an interminable pursuance of meandering
through mystical myths of life
lopsided and rustical in guise,
hung up on the horizon gates;
"I'm no confluence for commingling
for opposites merged with binds"
Nov 13, 2017
Nov 13, 2017 at 6:34 AM UTC