Valse Poem by robert dickerson
Valse
New Year Pigeons
coast in the New Year new
year clouds
lift their togas over the
jut
of mud-red cornices, the
French kind,
bricktight; narrow and high
with dozens of chimnies
irons, cast,
and eaten silver.
O Tuileries. We
drift
to some faroff corner
but you,
new blue year heaven of sky
deign
to go nowhere.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
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5/6/2024 6:48:07 AM # 1.0.0.1119
