The Present Poem by Leon Moon
The Present
dawn's sword
hangs over the river
and we collect summer
by counting the swings.
we are both destined
to have no memory of it.
it is a time
that must forge
through autumnal waves
our defiant apophatic wings.
we are both destined
to enflesh and make it known.
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
Winter collection / Second Death...
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8/28/2026 7:12:48 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
