Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Simple Tyrannies

link to website update

Oxen of the Sun 398

Polished hands point to luckless joy
Replaced by pictures of good
A wet umbrella in a circle
The thunder is a simple, imperfect passion
A violent god
A speech of petty tyranny
We quit the instant
The eye wanders from a far worse tomorrow
This, then is our more accomplished disorder
We affect tenderness
Remember me when you welcome the new day.

No comments: