poetry texts, poem archive at plagiarist.com

more fully,
since snow fell even on this
sun-drifted, sun-drenched sea,
blossoms the ice in those baskets
you carry into town.

sand
you demand in return,
for the last
rose back at home
this evening also wants to be fed
out of the trickling hour.


Anonymous submission.

Added: 24 Jun 2002 | Last Read: 23 Nov 2008 11:21 AM | Viewed: 2444 times

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