1
the herd reacts
tearing and pulsing
towards
fisted red snowbanks
2.
I stand Lumber legged
And tall hunched
Against sky backdropping
Orange and green
Wind from covered suns
Black beetle sized wagons
I spit out the pith
It goes between the mountains
And gets stuck in a goats head
3.
I slip between the secret cracks of sounds, pause a breath a muscle a synapse between finger and brain and typing fingers. I keep the
I keep the light
I keep my name
First time keeping secrets
Holding it close to chest
And scraping it with my thumb nail
Wooden and veined
Ringing
No comments:
Post a Comment
Keep it nice. I like constructive criticism, though. Anything racist, homophobic, ableist, transphobic or misogynist will not be posted. Duh.