Sunday, August 06, 2006

A Musical Exercise: In Which the Kids Die and a Star Cooks the Meat

This mystical frolic amid my sad dreams:
The moon glowing rabid deep in the night.

The children of starry day are gone—

slipping beyond blue, pausing briefly,
growing cold. Eye of rib roasting

upon a velvet star.


didi said...

Send me this one for OCHO.


Helen Losse said...

Thanks Didi. Will do. This was an exercise for a poetry class I took a number of years ago in which we concentared on music, rather than meaning.