To clear the drifts of spring Of our forebear's excrements And bury the subconscious archives Under unaffected flowers Indeed- Our person is a covered entrance to infinity Choked with the tatters of tradition Goddesses and Young Gods Caress the sanctity of Adolescence In the shaft of the sun. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE OPAL DREAM CAVE by KATHERINE MANSFIELD VARIATIONS: 12 by CONRAD AIKEN CONTRA MORTEM: THE BEING AS MEMORY by HAYDEN CARRUTH STORIES ARE MADE OF MISTAKES by JAMES GALVIN DOMESTIC SONG by DAVID IGNATOW |