Monday, September 12, 2011

Detailed representation.

Read closely, you'll see no watery ripples for waves written
In the atlases where the oceans build, rebuild and bequeath--

Nor help from an illustrator's presentiment
of brine terrain danger where
The rocks and white phantoms wait down beneath.

Nor, too, is there no helpful key for the dry land located in between,
For the cragged folds of fool's gold
That lie around--
Impatient too

For a fool's trembling gold-dig to chip away at custodially
And exhume.

No comments: