Herds hoard fields
felled towards
Such ringing moans.
Clung to worships
Wrapped in garrulous
Sting-bonnets
Contusion
Blossoms throughout
The hospital dark
Yet stains the bone.
Fires left from intention, what
Thoughts sparked or
Reasons marred to singing.
They’re all after me. All
Night the groaning tuba –
Erase the bomb shell after
Glow so there’s no where
Left to hide
Bomb Insert a string
Shelter Digested wound,
The string stuck –
Wound around
Intestine
Skyline
Suffocates on bowing necks
Bent sanctimony
To the stone’s crush
Weigh in to fields
Fibrous or sonic:
Contusion’s two shuns.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment