Friday, June 01, 2018

Doctrine

translating clouds
into panting,
thirst-throated air

arguing until
finally linear
in clemency

until I spider
empty, blank
to the-end-ing

descending, and
taking little boats
to the i-land

making pronouns
for the future,
which is now.

_

No comments:

from eremition

I lie here I don't count the days anymore than I count trees they're here  and although real also possess  speechlessness as if a ca...