today a Parisian police horse unseated his rider and legged it


Go Garibaldi

Go...
Go Garibaldi...
The streak in you is primitive.
Go through
The tin cans
Until you reach
The dream.

My hand is on your flank
I know you remember
The green place
And like me will thank
Everybody
If they would just get
Out of the way.

Of course you will be stunned
And brought back-
Life is full
Of such scenes.

I will always remember that green...
How beautifully you fled!





Poetry by jenks The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 431 times
Written on 2009-02-20 at 04:30

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text


Rob Graber
One's spirit runs with Garibaldi; stanza 3 stuns one back to "reality," and 4 manages a kind of moral victory, I think... I find this a wonderful write!
2009-02-20