Thus Boomed
Sweet adrift, beyond contempt
Duress and storms sort out the sort
Tatooed with rain; green-silver
folds of rugs unfold to gray
Along the hills at Zephyr’s sway
Beyond the cries, the dogs’ sweet
look uncovers black in the
pupil’s eyes: Sweet Lord!
Furious Thor insufflates dust,
hair uncoils amid the nymphs’ lust
Sweet pure Yin song, cut down
Metallic breeze: the fingernail
of moon will hardly break the cloud
poled tree, beneath which cows
shelter seek in silent bows.
The cricket’s chirps nurse the
Fallen sheets of steel to sleep;
Faraway, purple winks grumble
Godly refrains: Wake up tonight!
Drum of flash in bottle-light!
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