The Barbaric City’s Head
In the attic of fate
In a hiding line’s May
was hiding itself again.
the shining test’s satisfying little day
the sleepy and worried hand holding the other
flowed freely just as a waves crashed
and I have to swallow them in he tangled skein
the fragrance of rain drop
a drop of snow with sand in it and the flower mountain
as the hit of various versions
along the bosom, light was kept the deep green.
When in the middle of line with the several bullet holes
Bones of imagination turned white and come to decay,
The layer of devious dream,
These white boulders collapsed, city ruined, a pit was dug
And reluctantly, each barbaric city’s head was buried in it.