Art and Aion



Between rhyme and howl

dangles a fragile world,

a mundane egg of art:

where words dance and display

and are not prose

because prose is not fit

for frame or stage. Rhyme

is a cage, golden and twisted

and beautiful are the birds

that sing on its perch, but it must not ever be forgotten

that birds are beings of wing and air

and quills iridescent.

On the framed stage are birds

which sing from art.

To create a poem one must capture

without taming. One must dance

before the bird escapes

the conjuring hat.

Bạn đang đọc truyện trên: AzTruyen.Top