Monday, October 06, 2008

Like a delight

Will he be black?
He will scream,
"I will long for
to will glide
angrily"
This stream may stride and glare, but
it is angrily meagre
A sort of wall
A kind of invasion
A sort of delight
A kind of eye
Lustre is so motionless
it will quiver you
As if he will be steady, turning,
laying, like a use.
He will be shiny, his terrible
droop



Poem attributed to me (that I did not write) in Issue #1 at For Godot, Research in Poetry.

1 comment:

Lion Chiller said...

I came here by accident- reading through my search for Nuruddin Farah... loved this poem!