(Untitled)
Still my favorite
Daffodils by Joseph Hutchison
Let's speak of anguish at the root
of daffodils, their open-mouthed
breathlessness. Let's meditate upon
stones that still dream of the magma,
and the fever in each atom (its disease
of desire to keep those particles
circling and circling). Let's consider
the shout that leaps in a sleeper's throat
like a ( Read more... )
Daffodils by Joseph Hutchison
Let's speak of anguish at the root
of daffodils, their open-mouthed
breathlessness. Let's meditate upon
stones that still dream of the magma,
and the fever in each atom (its disease
of desire to keep those particles
circling and circling). Let's consider
the shout that leaps in a sleeper's throat
like a ( Read more... )
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