Friday, April 30, 2010

in the annals of the horn





in the annals of the horn
there's one where one paints
frail miniatures
by candlelight:

portraits and landscapes
and still-life; stamps
to be used for postage
as boy plummets—

tender feather, gust-blown
toward pearl toned daughter
who waylays for ages consigned
to musty isles; surfaces frayed,

although scattered still bound.
gagged, to some extent,
out of tradition and another
affliction— somewhat plain.

ostensibly opaque
yet oh, so luminous—
exudes most lustrous glows
even now.


1 comment:

Rachel said...

Noxi, das ist ein tolles Gedicht, das gefällt mir, so wahr und gut durchdacht...

dir einen schönen Tag

ganz lieb, Rachel