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From: "jeff.worksonpaper02@gmail.com" <jeff.worksonpaper02@gmail.com>
Newsgroups: alt.surrealism
Subject: Brisk Hours In The Wide Woods
Date: 5 Oct 2005 10:31:48 -0700
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rose dies to words, the stem
rises to Virginia's height
this lyre with no hide, before or
behind, will meet every delight
so I read in "The Virginia Triggers"
and I imagined, lacking a picture,
a lyre was a sceptre
there, in my picture, bloom, as nyctohylophobes
grow savage when afar of night, tides of pursuit
here, with this bloom, lacking
the lyre's delight,
many roses lie awake
weeping every melodies
and I imagined, lacking a picture,
weeping was a frolic, and
Virginia, the lady of drops,
was fond of their shine
http://www.wga.hu/art/e/eyck_van/jan/01page/14m_read.jpg
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