Alphabet of Dust

I asked, what’s new?
What’s in a thousand years? What’s not?

I said, blood colored butterflies. Do jokes swim in the sea?
Not only the legs of summer clouds, but the shapes of dusk in rain puddles.

An odd number of stars, an even number of snowflakes.
And the universe, is that a nod? Yes, said the pine cones and lightning.

How I said, how should a tree, both its legs broken, fall to heaven?
How should the asphalt birds, when like fire on the eyelids, blink into branches of wings?

Who will take up this alphabet of dust and cast the old nets for the first time again?

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s