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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 4399 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention Many Voices Paul Lyons The long day wanes that draws the twilight’s wind across the cords. The slow moon climbs to limn the keening lips that sound refrains deeply scored. The long day wanes and through the dim I hear them come: infant phonemes, toddler rhymes, childish cant, angry youth retorts. The slow moon climbs; a softer strain appears, gathers to fullness as duet, records a long day, wanes. The breeze weakens and still the voices come as time affords. The slow moon climbs until just a metaplastic vocal tremor remains to distort. The long day wanes and then, the wind becalmed, there are none. Come my friend, I have heard, by all accords. The slow moon climbs; The long day wanes. |
