When I have a plane flight, expect a poem.
Still working on my Iambic Pentameter.
Fog 3/25/2012
Early this morning heaven fell to earth,
The sun is blotted out and breath comes hard.
So we are re-wombed, ready for a birth,
Almost drowning in the air, white and dark.
So all of us must be borne above or
else heaven must rise and wait pendant for
our death.
No comments:
Post a Comment