Dirt of Dust

Puffing fire from air and heat from dark, willowed and bent –

We lost ourselves in the leaves, who were dried and crisp as offerings,
as the dirt of dust seeps gently overhead –

The waves are rippled with final thoughts and breaths that lost the count –

Puffing smoke from fire and heat in dark, bent willows hovering,
menace and touching tips too hot.

2010 Barry Comer

Advertisements

About Barry Comer

I volunteer as a design and communications consultant with Family Scholar House in Louisville, Kentucky, http://www.familyscholarhouse.org the Democratic Socialists of America http://www.dsausa.org and teach children with emotional and developmental disabilities. I have degrees in art and was an art director for 30 years.
This entry was posted in Albert Camus, Allen Ginsberg, beat poetry, French Poetry and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.