ForkWord




Poems by Inchiki



 


watt things gold



initials silencia
by worms
a painted argument–

time is a gun
gone off now
in variable directions

the exciting age
approaches
down the road

old bones clunk
like the gearbox
of my first car

madly careering
the ploughshare into
an ant's mound

the steering wheel
spins out of my hands

a body like
a door hanging loose on its
hinge

blowing open
with a cold breeze
- a fever of ghasts






Mind Spool  2015