Saturday, October 24, 2009

205 : Margo Berdeshevsky


Paris but not what trees were blooming then, when she hung under their fallen nail parings do

cherry trees bloom in April, yes, I’ll tell her, but these times do we know what is about to open,

the hand, the cannon, the heart, I send her mad Van Gogh’s marroniers instead, did he even

mistake their fists for stars?