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Black Pools
The stream never really spoke to you
that was just a misty fantasy
no wisdom or hidden messages...
just a rush of nymphs cackling.
The cells of a stream
are always on the move
the heart of a stream
is always pretty cool
The soul of a stream always lay
at the bottom of black pools.
Dip your burning angst right in
shed the pyrite dust and clay
rest your blistered heartache
and wounded wisdom
upon the flowered bank.
Close your eyes but not for long
release your krill of dream
as the sun is being splintered
by the musky scythe of eve.
Copyright ©
Anthony Biaanco
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