The westside princess

There is a street on the west side

Of the city,where many Mongols

Come and see nothing but the

Shinning light of torch men who

Assembled way many years ago

And from the rest they say rise

The storm that sweeps every thing

In sight and fall silent on the dead ears

He cut off his ear and bandaged with

Mildew butter left on the shard

There is a hurry in the west side

Of the city,rising to meet the princess.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s