Tuesday, 20 December 2016

Snow poem by Lars Gustafsson

Lively snowfall over philosophers’ graves

A lively snowfall
falls like an ironic comment
over past philosophers’ graves
in what is practically 
a continuous winter twilight.

One of them was a kind of market-crier
the second was a sway-pole artist
the third kept a look-out on street corners
That era is over now. Here this snowfall thickens.
And these pages lack writing.

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