migrationsjournal:
[link]
FlowerPressBecause it’s more beautiful this way, without words, without breathing. EachFlowerPress
leafpetal sleeps frozen in silicates. I halfwatch years glide by, think the same
mindnumbing loop: i am. i am. i. am. i am bloom
wither. dry. bloomwitherdry
The Blue PillMy grey window frames a new ad each week. Below, sleep-walkers peopled our streets lovers of live emberThe Blue Pill
Mother pressed in my hand, so I remember
to cry for my brothers, bleeding in gutter coffee.
Is it too late to pull shards of shrapnel from still shocked faces? Shhh-- don’t wake the children.
A siren wailed across
cracked glassy pavement with undissolved fingernails
and cloudy eyes, gutted like
fish; but even AK47s sigh, breathe knots into dry earth, drip drip like stars falling flecks of memory &
To a Petroleum ThiefTo a Petroleum ThiefTo a Petroleum Thief
These lamps hold no memory—
of pregnant mountains ravished for life-rich ores, and acid rain mourned traces into streams,
TrainsTrainsTrains
I tire of train station kisses, of waiting for life on hold, but I watch you speed away
from painted benches. They never seem to dry— not for us
but give me sleepless daylight, my brain in the wrong language where wind sweeps
folds of newsprint across hardened droplets, but I almost smear
luggage of endless flights, but catch my breath: &nbs
thinking. what's that good for?
--
Walk softly.
it is the wheel of the tractor, i have a bunch of more zoomed out shots as well... the face wasn't obvious right away and wasn't in any sense intentionally there (i don't think)
"geez, hello world. one might imagine being female."
i am having trouble parsing that
--
Walk softly.
freaky.
--
Walk softly.
--
" space. "
thanks for the comment.
--
Walk softly.
/me bows
--
Walk softly.
Your have very nice screen shots on your works by the way.
I would like you keep trying to develop as a poet. Keep striving to be original and have something to say. I will probably come by again.
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