A Suicide Beneath the Capitulating Fall
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A Suicide Beneath the Capitulating Fall

If yet our only share is Autumn shed
Felled flecks of rusted Spring haunt too the Sage;
What vernal vestige to reverb'rate nigh?
For us, a frameless pane of leper sky-
No fissure draining forth the azure pool
Nor sunrise treading heav'n in cleft clouds cloaked;
But drowned twig carousels stir marinade
of flood-licked land, the pallid plume of fowl
Whereat the wan oak swoons its naked veins
A final shrug of lungs mists staid soiled scenes
Supine I watch my banished spirit twirl
Until the strained embosomed gavel springs
To toll quietus- nevermore to ring.
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A Suicide Beneath the Capitulating Fall - by Brian Roberts - 03-07-2020, 11:46 PM



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