Just a little better now. Just a little simpler, a little more meaningful. It’s that it almost didn’t happen. It’s that we were almost left alone to be shivered by the lightning strikes, to be arranged into the clouds. Thunder. Thunder. Thunder.
Tag: short poem
Suppose disintegrating into the soil is the best next place to be, surrounded by dirt and its worms chomping through. It's more there to me than it is to a student of suits. Yet in an encompassed environment, stemming wood from its fruit, we go laughing and brimming all cute. Still disguise yourself, child. The … Continue reading I Am a Patchwork Quilt
Lion tigers A symptom Sons; daughters The price And their ankles To be worshiped But art’s indifference Seems too nice And yet the cordial Faints are handed When reason’s swift And doctors don't understand That learned patients Are their corners Infinitely Their circle And all the while A lying race That never handles At its … Continue reading Art’s Seeming Indifference
