Monday, October 19, 2009

11 frames per second

2 observations

I am hollow.
a sphere of tears dried,
nothing inside but pride
that even now sublimates to vapours.
memory capers,
but for how long until the light
goes out and the projector's threads
mean nothing but erosion.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

2 observations:

Anonymous said...

Lovely!
A mix of the romantic & the modern!
We have not visited each others blogs for some time.
Great to find this poem on yours!

from www.smitaspoetry.blogspot.com

Anonymous said...

wonderful reading you again, after some time!
With the kind of refrain you haven't lost!

Thanks for being there on your blog. Do visit mine: www.smitaspoetry.blogspot.com

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