My trombone binoculars bend
right back into my head and I
can see the growth in all that
which I’ve fed – still no trees,
unappeased vines bending the
spines so that they too bow in
need. Apples san seed. No
lending from the skies. Not a
desert but a safely stagnant
demise.
Apr 4, 2013
Apr 4, 2013 at 2:41 AM UTC
My trombone binoculars bend
right back into my head and I
can see the growth in all that
which I’ve fed – still no trees,
unappeased vines bending the
spines so that they too bow in
need. Apples san seed. No
lending from the skies. Not a
desert but a safely stagnant
demise.
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