After Andrew Wyeth

One Comment

  1. Posted June 1, 2025 at 7:42 pm | Permalink

    The insect and
    the cliff face
    of dry sand ;

    Hold out your hand
    To catch his fall
    Meanwhile grains
    Of glass and stone
    Lead and bone
    Carbon and nails
    Calcium and snails
    Layer after layer
    Of skin and time
    It keeps running up
    All the while displacing
    The standing stones
    Disembowelling the face
    Scatter what’s left
    Clay and grass mounds
    Pinpoint the exit way
    To be gone far away
    Leave to their fate
    Them things of hate
    Only to self combust
    Lava on the cake
    Call them seasons
    Is what it will take
    As only earth has time
    Otherwise ellipse
    Without a beginning
    There is no end.

    Anthony Mc Gann
    8/4/25. 18:16.

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