The Distant Fog's Surrealistic Curvatures; At My School Poem by Nathaniel A.Wallace
The Distant Fog's Surrealistic Curvatures; At My School
The crows are flying in the rain,
There must be oil in their feathers;
The murder rings around the tree,
There must be something there to see.
Nothing falls apart,
Nothing falls apart in the gloomy, pale blue
All is in deference -
Everything is defecable from a bird's point of view.
And marking their criss-cross on my window pane,
Left using the metal frame to blot out the rain.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/1/2024 6:44:43 PM # 1.0.0.1119
