Saturday, August 13, 2011

Summer Series Volume 3: The Olympus of LIttle Things

The Olympus of Little Things

by Paul Murat

They will be ploughing with our bones,

While the serenade of wounded clouds

Howling in our rusted eyes

They will be gliding

on our bones, while we are dying the stars

No one will come,

to the premiere of our hell

Other than gods of ancient roses and lonely dogs

No one

Will come

Here they are the beautiful tear drops of plain words,

“Once we all lived on the same cross,” says the farmer

And a rice grain

Remembers the colour of the rain

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