Thursday, August 31, 2006

Listen to the Grass

Be still in the roasting sun,
the blue open eye is made
for pleasure, Window-lets
of hazy summer hasten the
jubilee of bloom. Here lies
dying chrysanthemum -
burning fire poppy,
complaints of coming doom.
Be still, helicopter daisies
will soak red in white
ballerina dress, this fire
dance is made to destroy,
the strong legs are dangly,
skinny things, sinewed and
tissued one hundred degrees.
Hear the sound of dragonflies
skirting on, flying bomber's
backs - black hawks heading
down. If you check the green
wild grass for stories, check it
well my dear, for if you don't
listen to the dead the past will
catch up with you.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

I love the feel of this one. Its very moving. Melancholy almost, at least to me.

~Female from planet Earth

ragingplanetfire said...

thanks for looking again, and glad it made you feel. That more than makes me happy. U know what? if you had a blog, I'd love to have a little look.

Anonymous said...

Well...i don't.

Trust me, my blog wouldn't be nearly so interesting


~Female from planet Earth