Poem Hunter
Poems
A Dry-Spore Time

A Dry-Spore Time

when it is nothing but sentiment and the trembled terrapin of other ideation only breaks the waves to lick its lips and breathe for a not measured instant of quills and bridles and ringing spurs of pentagonal proportion if there is a fair wind and drier salt to taste periwinkles squared and unctuous in their revelry....

User Rating: 5 / 5 ( 0 votes )

Other poems of CONTRAPUNCTAL.... YES, THAT'S HOW I INTENDED TO SPELL IT......... (816)

Comments (0)

There is no comment submitted by members.