Sunday, December 13, 2009
The showers beat on this side of the world,
This blindness is like a corner of the mind.
Anything with leaves and stems is creative,
The beating is on the apples and oranges, the fruit.
A whole sequence of events unfurls slowly,
Inside the house were streams, now there are floods.
The rotten fruit will become heavier,
And the whole world convenes politely.