The Watertower

butterfly from the
water tower
crash lands,
meets me;
hails and greets,
watery echoes of hellos—
urgent news,
matchless mystery,
key of cosmos;
I come from the tower
where there swirls not souls
but sound—potentiality,
uncurling forms of gods,
unspeakable outlines
of their starry essences—
some breathed on me,
watch out!
in moth’s
resurrecting dust
butterfly departs—
I hear their dark
decrees, their sermons,
then silence.

Thanks for checking out my poem.

Did I tell you I wrote a novel? You can read it here for free, or get it for your e-reader on iBooks, Amazon or Kobo. Or you can just say you read the book, and donate five bucks down below. Go on.

Gabriel Muoio


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