“Voices come crying out of the cracked cores of ripened fruit
and also from crows’ nests nestled in the crotches of tree limbs.
The buggy bounces like a small boat on a wide river.
I examine in the trees’ fragrance the poems I left unfinished
and, regretting having cursed the black cawing of the crows,
I apologize to everything on earth.”

✖ posted 3 weeks ago - 301 notes - reblog ✖ 301 notes
reblogged from armisael
originally posted by moscow


Source: moscow