WITH AN ODD AND AN INK

feathers dipped in red
dripping birdsongs
on daisy skipping fields

broken wing,
hollow larynx
swallowing cloudless sky

hungry breeze
weaving aimlessly
whistling a cracked path

skeleton leaves curled
old stories forgot
sleeping in unknown graveyards

leap a wall,
mossy faith,
slipping on laughing ground

sunlight slaps
the eyes of thoughts
listening with blind tongue

spider web ink
tracks misty tears
on faceless ghosts

resume the story
feathers in flight
an odd day begins

WITH AN ODD AND AN INK

Cosimo Piro

Joined October 2009

  • Artist
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  • Comments 42

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