Monday, November 24, 2014

poem || Jeff Harrison

Queen Nab

nabbed already the lap
silver gap
looking wise
where root is snow-colored
hair a white pillow
a bit of a shock to earn
below blossom's wage
lips over eyes
sleeping cloud, be snow
your grasses white
forgiven be which can end,
grass brains
you wet heat dead
of wood and dead
skin-icy a body's underside
fold its mirrors
nab the ringing
turn the birds into stream
wind up your black rose
rain seat ripe
a depth's lily sea in chains
think "a line of paint"
that will money up your found love

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