Long Song -- Unicorn

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Date Posted: 17:35:19 05/03/05 Tue
Author: AAAGGGSSS
Author Host/IP: AC9D9969.ipt.aol.com / 172.157.153.105
Subject: Long Song

I.

the coyote sings, his song
a long series
of whistles,

tunes
strung, along
that pierce the daylight
utters its imperfection to a tower
like leans the sift
like there are others
by
so cold in concrete
by the day sky

in its longs bents of gentle silver;
stretch high
and the move of sky

It keeps, as compass there
the bearings,

of all birds in wandering

the softness, of the graze
of filtered stretched wings

that
quiver
feel the warm enter
delicately,

worn fibers;
that brush the air
feel, the fiber there too
against the sky
A circuit, a bridge - a bend
of the scattered blue

seeing as a mirror
the warmth of a soaked land,
coming

to greet her,
and clouds roam gently as police

the barrier
of, the currents
that swim splash
as "High Noon" Swashbucklers, relaxing
the planks at sea
caps;

moving
always,
top mountainous lines of crests
that melt
a sugar

in heat,
and rough conversation proliferate;
the wash, of air

beckoning lifting,
as fine granules of salt
again,

II.

Roam the forest deep,
with her alleys
accosted

by the smell
heat
of thin whistles, again
abrasive - they roar

all, membrane
sail, the hidden gateway
of warmer waters
the coolness of sun, as protection
and the moon; the others
never
listening

to his woos
clacks; and coos:

ever
walking
the escalator, of the breeze

She is made for it;
handles, with fingers finely
every word spoken
line said
across, a hush of silence

like an insetting, cloud
some fog, in her glory

of a steam engine I born in;
when dips of water
slimmer; the bark
in
ever regions, of serenity

where knowledge clings,
to clefts of foresight
and retina's;

Regions, known
to each dot,

of lisps' seas

III.

Hear the cry, above
once more
in, the coyote

the beaches crossed;
water
sipped

on a palette
wet

knowing doors
that walk, in them
knock, often:
to the wave of trees
looming
and breasts; with its heart
like a bulb on a chain
hearing,
the spoken; shatter of the wind
about the cliff

walks, the breath
to this day

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