Friday, April 29, 2016

Robert Verdon, #127, Wind

O’er his white banes, whan they are bare
The wind sall blaw forever mair.
— 'Twa Corbies'

drifting through the dry grass is the wind
I prowl the edge of society
I am the outcast wind

I am the snow in the whiteknuckle mountains
I am the absolute cold between stars
cello wind

I am the scream of the crag's edge
I am the poisoned rabbit fur floating in summer
death-rattle wind

I am the caged cat by the highway
I am the child behind the wire
steamroller wind
juggernaut wind

mourn, O wind
destroy, O wind

I am drifting
I am alone
I am gone.


  1. When one becomes one with the elements, with nature, with everything in nature, then one's proclamations are infallible and invincible and can't be negated. Powerful.

    1. I guess I am groping towards that kind of idea here. :)


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