Canto CCCLXVI

The moon is waxing gibbous, my verse wanes
as I build to my closing, five stress whimper,
tomorrow’s sky will host a round, blank page,

and my work will be done before September
draws the dark across the lunar face
and piddles on the summer’s final embers,

so Dante can stop spinning in his grave.

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2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. peter litton
    Aug 30, 2012 @ 23:57:52

    If Dante was writing now and had read this series… you might well feature.

    Reply

  2. peter litton
    Aug 31, 2012 @ 00:02:01

    I’m expecting big things for tomorrow night, this series should end with a bang, not a whimper.

    Reply

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