Sunday, 24 July 2011

⎞⎛ green grow the rushes o

everything on the earth bristled: 
the bramble pricked 
and the green thread nibbled away:
the petal fell
until the only flower was the falling itself:
water is another matter
has no direction but its own bright grace
runs through all imaginable colours
takes limpid lessons from stone
and in those functionings plays out
the unrealized ambitions of the foam:
{pablo neruda}

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