Thursday, August 8, 2013

A Poem by Christopher Kenneth Hanson

Staid, The Night
This night, the day fowl laugh hazily
Through the wafted green air-
Said night-as seeded, dazed:
And quiet, frequently-
To a realm of callous currency now:
Here fly- the frigid clipped mocking birds;
Lurching past frigid chirped contingencies-
Towards a space of tempered reality; even
Sprouts of a languid sky- infinite-
Here lie-here lies-
By lone skewered sky
Sedated, in posture- as tripped night.
Christopher Kenneth Hanson (ckhanson81)

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