Thursday, 20. September 2007
A Question For The Masters
Why is that, O Respected
(and Expensive) Masters, that your
eyes always saw the sky filled with
warm porridge, with cotton candy, with
horse manes, or with golden sheaves
of wheat, and never absolutely empty
of all essence like a giant blue
or black bell, with a tongue
of golden light or silver rain tolling,
tolling for God knows what?
At the Met's "The Age of Rembrandt" Exhibit, September 19, 2007
My Poems
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