Saturday, July 27, 2013

27 July 2013

A Grain of Barley

I was a fool to sell my soul
for a tiny grain of barley.
Fish have streams, birds have nests.
I am homeless. I have no star.

Fish in the streams, stars in heaven,
and I’m in my room with the flies.
The silver eyes of fish — transparent glass.
Night — a motionless kettle.

You who feed the fish and insect,
and give the comet its light,
guard from fear and eternity
the fish, the insect, the poet.

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