Like A White Fungus, A Lump Of Wind Covers The Green Corpse Of The Lost World. Frozen Rivers Form An Iron Dam Which Holds Together The Rotten Remains. In A Small Rainy Corner Stands The Last City In Stony Patience. A Dead Skull Lies - Like A Prayer - Slanted On The Body, The Black Penitential Bench.
No favourite Poem yet! Login To View And Add to Favourites