Meditation No 9
S
Sheena Blackhall
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I do not jeer at squirrels
Or peel frogs out of their jumpsuits
I do not throw stones at angels
Sitting mythical and coy
On the white limousines of their clouds
I do not have the effrontery
To scratch the faces of pianos
I do not argue with mountains
In matters of philosophy they know best
I do not purse Corinthian columns
Those icons of the permissive society
Instead, I immerse myself in silence
In the white sweep of the nothing that is the breath
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş