when the calm signals an imminent blister,
gravity is inverted; celestial care is set into
motion of exploded vision.
transition is noshed by winds trailing
the acme of pier feeling the order
of unexpected clotted cluster.
mundane weekend matters mean nothing
in the trapezoid of rigid austere. clouds
quarantine vestiges of man,
balling it up into meteors of universal
empathy. quagmires are formed where
extraterrestrials weep with
syncopated whinge, praying to the winds
of pendulum not to blow away the poise
man has learnt to know as qualm.
|
|
|
More by gautami tripathy |
recommend this
email
print
link to this page
Comments: 4
I love "syncopated whinge, praying to the winds
of pendulum"