When thunderheads spiral into space, then a wild drome Is nailed inside a church-chidden city To move, a masking venus will suck naves from Bound devils and angelled sleep Trilled trees dip laxative leaves inside a berried grave And starry silver men scatter a swelled sun Against luminaries and liquid statues? More at https://jimbellamy.simplesite.com.
The post Liquid Statues | Jim Bellamy appeared first on Best Poetry.
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