Variations on a theme of Garcia Lorca

the moon, redolent curve of white metal,
dreams in silence the ultimate walls.
blank curves appear in the clarity of trumpets,
the nuns enter the recognised bay of panting rumours.
profound water and quiet junta of horses…
everything is salt.
the wandering moment transfixed the poet —
the poet, ecstatic sense & orderly sin, does not believe.

 

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Robert Mapson

 

 

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