Friday, October 6, 2017

Trees Have Sprouted From the Wreckage and Books

I am a ruin,
Which means I should have
A strange attraction,

The way a roofless abbey,
An abandoned cliff dwelling,
A drowned town underwater
Impossible to live in

All manage to draw us in.
May I draw you in?
A ruin is more open

To everything than any
Closed and monitored
Museum. I love the sky.
Fly down, into me, from it.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.