Larry Sawyer


Dancing Off The Edges Of Our Lives - Poem by Larry Sawyer

We notice ordinary things like flower pots
filled with sighs and closets dripping
monsters. Is it time yet to depart
from the cloistered probability
that our study of cognac has yielded no
transparencies other than what we
imagined? Here in the future our
wings are mere footnotes
ancanthus medallion, ribbon of sky,
facts smile from posterior gardens.
There is a spy called wonder who watches our
habits. There is a virtue to the geometry of
sleep for a friend is a ruddered thing requiring
citations and phosphorescent rooms.


Comments about Dancing Off The Edges Of Our Lives by Larry Sawyer

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  • (3/27/2008 2:17:00 PM)


    Very beautiful lyrical flow, a near-musical quality. I like it.

    Don
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Poem Submitted: Thursday, March 27, 2008

Poem Edited: Thursday, March 27, 2008


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