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Poem

By Scoplaw

FireworksAcrid, aflame, again, air all back bark, billowing black blooms, bottle bulbs, burn burst but cheer: clear cold come cores dark down; dozen drifting, each encouraging.  Fall feeds fiery flashfrom growing hastily, hiss holds ignite in in into invisible, just keenly living minutes; mist moments,not ones others over over, pale paper pop powder quarter release rising river rockets rumble, scored, sections seem shape shells sixty sizzling slows some spheres sputteringstar-blotting stitches storm tendril threads through-tumble turn turn turn under up: volley-watts, wheels which wicks willows wreckage.

Full post as published by Scoplaw on September 29, 2009 (boomark / email).