Saturday, November 19, 2011

The loop


Diaphanous as breath,
the present won't apologise:

it's filled our eyes with endless
replicas of circles,
left us frozen
in the twitch of noon.

Freedom used to be a pier
to the horizonless;

now it clings to
stillborn reveries

at the confluence of our words.


Copyright©2011 Anna Piutti