Listened but couldn't hear <br />the subject hissing: looked up to <br />pages of stuttering rain (it tastes <br /> <br />green), warmer while the song decays <br />such weather full of precedent <br />A body made of water <br /> <br />dropped from a stratus <br />window mists over as it falls, <br />all hesitating sluice and flume <br /> <br />* <br /> <br />A water-worded book, muttering <br />foam of nouns, matte adjectives <br />and artifacts: torn pieces of <br /> <br />the visible, divisible by threes <br />A lot absorbed in rubble and the day's <br />debris litters the nocturne <br /> <br />where moon exercises absence's <br />discovery of outline, crevices <br />and missing parts of world <br /> <br />* <br /> <br />A private sea of trees, these inabilities <br />of yellow leaves all pigeon, <br />sparrow, wren or finch, plume down <br /> <br />dirty sidewalk, broken glass <br />of reason's syllabics, babble of <br />wind-bent grass, brush stammering <br /> <br />crushed bouquets of paper clouds <br />white night cross-hatched with stars <br />the rambling green rain unravels<br /><br />Reginald Shepherd<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/park-apocrypha/
