BLUE CALLIGRAPH by John Swain

We mirror the clear air,
light horses burn white
on the island of sand,
you empty prism robes
and drink
water from transparent glass,
I draw lines in the well,
we sound voices in the hollow,
we cup tears of myrrh,
the sun passes with ink
you blue calligraph
a firmament on the lens.


John Swain lives in Le Perreux-sur-Marne, France.  His most recent chapbook, The Daymark,
was published by the Origami Poetry Project.

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