Blood hides
among parts
behind parts
threatening to
spill out
at any moment
from encountering a tiny
rose thorn.
A small trickle of the Colorado
gouged mountains
and etched new planes.
The universe floats on the waters we spill.
The universe floats on the waters we spill.
I like the poem, but I got a message that the video was not available!
ReplyDeleteAnd so it does -- painfully and resolutely.
ReplyDeleteLean. Elegant. Beautiful.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful and true. Thank you, rosaria.
ReplyDelete