Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Neruda announces his dead...

Its the end
of the season and
the clouds huddle near

while Neruda
announces his dead,
the sea stops to hear.

The new poets
align with the old
on the line,

their words
they are ripe
for the change

while the bombs
cluster on and
continue to fall,

the cell phones
explode false blue
light in our face.

And I with the clouds
inform the sea, that she has
been dead for more than an age.