On The Difficulty In Writing Poetry
8 September, 2002
Author: Jason Visconti
Shadows on the page, always.
A road map whose X is somewhat faded,
but somewhere deep in the confines of this mess
is a beautiful radiant sun,
some city made of gold housing angels,
the world of civilized God. The jittering bell of love guides the ear,
its chimes sound off the heavens
and drop a chain, whose shingles in the air voice out chords
the cry of something special almost gone.
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Comments on this poem/writing:
| kelli (196.29.66.88) -- Monday, April 7 2003, 04:15 pm great poem it really touched me |
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