The Bleeding Sound Poem by Marieta Maglas

The sound blending
in the cool ear,
in the icy silence around,
the sun seeping beyond
the hot spastic horizon,
weeping clouds
in tornadic winds
like screaming bells
ringing their syllables,
trying to get higher,
the falling sight
tracking down the sky's white
into the night,
tracking down the dreams of
a medieval burg
into its red stones,
those dreams dying in the water,
tracking down the religious songs
into the clay,
in oxygen chains.

Poem by Marieta Maglas

Variant

The sound mingling with
the icy silence in the cool ear;

the sun penetrating the hot,
spastic horizon;
the clouds weeping
in tornadic winds;
the mouths opening like bells
to ring their syllables;
the falling sight
tracking down
the medieval burg's steps
into its red stones,
the dying dreams into
the shower of the rain,
the religious songs
into the clay,
and the oxygen chains
of the day
into the night.