[lit-ideas] Saturday Poem

  • From: Eric Yost <mr.eric.yost@xxxxxxxxx>
  • To: lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
  • Date: Sat, 16 May 2009 02:49:36 -0400


     (for David Ritchie)

Swarmed in cool cloth, it mulls slow flesh.
A village goes a proper trace, a line leads in,
each hand's fast force focused on fixing.
Outside the painting, a world glut on bombs and pain,
Inside, the same bombs fan against an ochre mountain.
A bull preens red horns against a black fence.
It has become the pain.
Astonishment is the end of surprise.
Astonishment is the end of surprise.
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