the lack and subtraction,
mild air through all open doors.
the chosen i enter,
but endless are these corridors.
and i come to nothing -
the place i already began,
the solace and spacing,
the absence I struggle against.
i owe much of nonsense,
the bread; and the water you walk,
the picture of motion-
you talk but no sound you spoke.
i want all your passion
your anger and your endless smoke
upon my redemption-
the grace I received and i broke...
адреса: https://www.poetryclub.com.ua/getpoem.php?id=26711
Рубрика: Вірші, що не увійшли до рубрики
дата надходження 10.05.2007
автор: Heather