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Easter
By Allene Nichols
There are eggs like bones,
white,
fragile,
alone and complete
without memories of hens
or mothers.
And there are poems like bones,
dry,
without meat,
without muscles,
but still complete
and eternal.
It is possible that the egg
is the poem
incarnate.
By Allene Nichols
There are eggs like bones,
white,
fragile,
alone and complete
without memories of hens
or mothers.
And there are poems like bones,
dry,
without meat,
without muscles,
but still complete
and eternal.
It is possible that the egg
is the poem
incarnate.
Pascua
By Allene Nichols
Hay huevos como huesos,
blancos,
frágiles,
solos y completes
sin memorias de gallinas
o madres.
Y hay poemas como huesos,
secados,
sin carne,
sin músclo,
pero ya completos
y eterno.
Es possible que el huevo
es la poema
encarnada.
By Allene Nichols
Hay huevos como huesos,
blancos,
frágiles,
solos y completes
sin memorias de gallinas
o madres.
Y hay poemas como huesos,
secados,
sin carne,
sin músclo,
pero ya completos
y eterno.
Es possible que el huevo
es la poema
encarnada.
All files © Copyright 2008 The Sylvan Echo