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Nervda

Veering wildly from the path of narrative since 1999.

12.13.2005

Poetry 365: Rise

Marvin has stolen the bishop's robes.
His hair sticks out of the hat
like a raven in the snow.
He talks in his sleep.

I will find myself in a cramped heaven
where there will be no space to raise my arms.
I will sing softly, hymns of new invention,
and I will eat and breathe the light.
Posted by Nervda at 12/13/2005 08:40:00 AM
Labels: poetry 365

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