|
|
Snakedoctors And Snapdragons
A tireless flyer skims the tar,
examining each petal's pot
where mouths of fragrance stand ajar.
On silver wings, this avatar
of all that's green marks off its spot.
A tireless flyer skims the tar.
I follow from my idle car,
the ironed edge of a parking lot
where mouths of fragrance stand ajar.
The Universe is closed. We are
forever winging through its knot.
A tireless flyer skims the tar.
The molecule, the double-star,
both weigh the same, as like as not
where mouths of fragrance stand ajar.
As ignorant of a double-star,
as I am of a doctor's lot,
a tireless flyer skims the tar
where mouths of fragrance stand ajar.
Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades
Vote for this poem
Please Comment On This Poem
|
|
|
|
|
|
|