<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=431929" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Signs</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">All night I dreamed of my home, <br>of the roads that are so long <br>and straight they die in the middle— <br>among the spines of elderly weeds <br>on either side, among the dead cats, <br>the ants who are all eyes, the suitcase <br>thrown open, sprouting failures. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>2. <br>And this evening in the garden <br>I find the winter <br>inside a snail shell, rigid and <br>cool, a little stubborn temple, <br>its one visitor gone. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>3. <br>If there were messages or signs, <br>I might hear now a voice tell me <br>to walk forever, to ask <br>the mold for pardon, and one <br>by one I would hear out my sins, <br>hear they are not important—that I am <br>part of this rain <br>drumming its long fingers, and <br>of the roadside stone refusing <br>to blink, and of the coyote <br>nailed to the fence with its <br>long grin. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And when there are no messages <br>the dead lie still— <br>their hands crossed so strangely <br>like knives and forks after supper. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>4. <br>I stay up late listening. <br>My feet tap the floor, <br>they begin a tiny dance <br>which will outlive me. <br>They turn away from this poem. <br>It is almost Spring.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Larry+Levis">Larry Levis</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=431929" data-title="Signs de Larry Levis" data-description="All night I dreamed of my home, of the roads that are so long and straight they die in the middle— among the spines of elderly weeds on either side, among the dead cats, the ants who are all eyes, the suitcase thrown open, sprouting failur..."></div> </div> </div>

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