Posted by voidmanufacturing on September 26, 2008
The sky is blue black
starlings unfold their wings
quit their pediments
to write a letter
returned.
The setting sun
fills teeth with gold.
Like a shred of meat
I’m lodged in this town.
-John Berger
This entry was posted on September 26, 2008 at 5:09 am and is filed under Poetry.
You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.
You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.
