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Friday, February 12, 2010

Amber

This misbegotten spoke of
rueful light, having been
kicked from his unclean-too
sheltering by the bully-
bruised sky, exhausts himself
repeating ungallant falls
into winter-wronging crowds.

Thick disapproval oozes
out an aural complaint
punctuated with amber
clots, ensnaring the flippant
and the shifty but to fix
their toady meanings inside
polished globules of today.

2 comments:

human being said...

right... and thus the soul is tempered...

Francis Scudellari said...

@Human Thanks... I think I may revisit the amber image again.