Quanta Poem by L.B. Temuco

Quanta



The days pass
like shallow scars
healed before
their time

The hours drip
like warm blood
turning red with joy
on my shoes

The minutes cry
like returning birds
in song-lines
across the moon

The seconds swim
like small silver fish
with the sun
on their backs

The infinite wakes
like dark quanta
in the visibilities
of present things

Wednesday, September 3, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: memories
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