Explore "Warp" by Dylan Thomas on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Like suns red from running tears, / Five suns in the glass, / Together, separate yet, yet separately round, / Red perhaps, but the glass is as pale as grass,
Glide, without sound, / In unity, five tears lid-awake, suns yet, but salt, / Five inscrutable spears in the head, / Each sun but an agony, / Twist perhaps, pain bled of hate,
Five into one, the one made of five into one, early / Suns distorted to late.
All of them now, madly and desolate, / Spun with the cloth of the five, run / Widely and foaming, wildly and desolate,
Shoot through and dive. One of the five is the sun.