ForkWordPoems by Inchiki |
|
|
Open letter to the editortoday i shall be: a half poet in a tin hat a father to three a prescient embalmer of wounds a neurosurgeon trained in pottery brother to the bride i am left behind by my own impulses see that train it carries those who could not run from the battle i can run but i cannot walk with these stick legs and open bone answer the telephone the prophet is calling take his call let him lick the deafness from you ear swallow down the gum make the eyes glow from within the glow of knowing archaen protozoa know it tree fearing ground sloths know it welltris knows it don't you know it? ![]() Poison Bomb 2011 |
↵ index
|