Tuesday, 22 December 2009

para a Ana "entre prosa e poesia"

Because You Asked About The Line Between Prose And Poetry

Sparrows were feeding in a freezing drizzle
That while you watched turned into pieces of snow
Riding a gradient invisible
From silver aslant to random, white, and slow.

There came a moment that you couldn't tell.
And then they clealy flew instead of fell.

Howard Nemerov

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