on a dissecting table
disconcerts.
Rainfall on Paris,
large drops sweet to gypsies
an artist carelessly passes.
He loosens his tie
under a canopy
of newsprint.
Daydreams of Velázquez
crying over a broken globe,
and loses himself.
Rain makes stones
under that ghastly tower
precious gems.
He stops and muses to himself,
precious gems.
He stops and muses to himself,
"A corpse is not so shocking."
No comments:
Post a Comment