Monday, March 24, 2014
Poem! Leaves at Burlesque Press
I, for you, am nothing: silent, profane,
trying to rise to your sacred language
above myself, above this vulgar light,
like the falling leaves that have only now
just arrived, this first cold night in November.
Read the rest at Burlesque Press!
G. M. Palmer
Share to Twitter
Share to Facebook
Share to Pinterest
Post a Comment
Post Comments (Atom)