July 25, 2012 § Leave a comment

Down yellow-green paths bright

Hand in hand,



No history lasting —


Cut quick

Those golden-rosed youth;

Those milky infants too soon bitten.

By some lord frighted, struck —

The two: sundered !


He: flailing,

She: dewy spirals, turning


Sun-hot new fruit

Still grainy with earth,

Upward curling in parts, now:

Cooling separate.


The ruddy-faced boy: with fists stony,

The hazy girl: turning tricks




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