Old Poems: Cleaning up, want to throw the paper away...
The sun phosphorescing the trees in their leaves
Causes them to unrepress their memories of Heaven
Blades of grass race across fields
Wind at their backs
Hunting the horizon on game trails of perspective
The sun as it goes down, illuminates the sky
Blue, past white, in pallor and freshness,
(Mary's color, clothed with the sun).
Causes them to unrepress their memories of Heaven
Blades of grass race across fields
Wind at their backs
Hunting the horizon on game trails of perspective
The sun as it goes down, illuminates the sky
Blue, past white, in pallor and freshness,
(Mary's color, clothed with the sun).