Sunday, February 7, 2016
Many Towns And Villages
And how many towns and villages were burnt?
The connectors of the the whole fire were burnt.
How did the heat energy escape into the air of art,
When it smoked twirling habits of grey silk?
My town terrifies the sailor in me as I ride the waves
Shifting to the seasons of my hopes and cares.
I must flee fortunately, my disagreement is in this
Volume of work I wrote so much surplus inside.
The towns were on fire, the towns were on fire,
And I did not desire the lifting of the banners.
It was our punishment, our crime and misdemeanour,
This side of town, when the rain touched
And delivered its spray of logos, in the event
Of everything so absorbing and true.
Topic(s) of this poem: fires