Thursday, January 22, 2004


the horn of plenty at the gate of ivory
the chalice overflows with the blood of the land
the morning bells are weeping primroses
the barren ground haunts the hour glass
the princess is not sleeping in crystal
the pilgrimage of naming is endless
The first line suggested itself as I went to bed last night. The next line was waiting for me when I awoke this morning. The rest flowed from there. Some may be "forced" or disconnected. Let me know.

Wanted to try a six-line form, with longer lines, just for a change of pace ...

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