Tuesday, March 31, 2020

MIROSLAV HOLUB ~







Dreams


They sap man’s substance

as moon the dew.

A rope grows erect

from the crown of the head.

A black swan hatches

from a pebble.

And a flock of angels in the sky

is taking an evening class

on the skid pan.



I dream, so I dream.

I dream

that three times three is nine,

that the right-hand

rule applies;

and when the circus leaves

the trampled ground will

once more overgrow with grass.



Yes, grass.

Unequivocal grass.

Just grass.


______________________
Miroslav Holub
Poems Before & After
Bloodaxe Books