Tuesday, March 03, 2009

Milieu

this experience constitutes a world


The crystal sand in the stained
box
dwells within the snail's memory
of the castaway
who walked on his head.

Shipwrecked
yet again in the space
between the quietude of play
and the quotidian
worm mold, he scribbles
on Egyptian papyrus
an anecdote of a black
chow
that fetches an artifact
of glued feathers
and glittering leviathan bones.

1 comment:

SarahA said...

You see you say such simple things in such a way, that makes it more beautiful with each read (this is my fifth)and I have learnt a new word 'quotidian' *dance*