Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Everything alive is behind the Redwood Curtain. Somewhere west of Holy trinity, Oregon Pass and further still. River stones into the Pacific, swept. Parked vans on the 299 indicate a prolonged piss-stop. An old man has been camping in the same spot for 10 days straight, waiting on the radio. You listen in about the 9/11 inside job and then tune the **** out. There's a banjo being tuned in knee-high agua while the steelies dive too deep on a meal. Just beyond Blue Lake, the skinned knees of Grandmothers and wizard bums bleed into your morning coffee. And if you haven't been stung in Fieldbrook then what good are you?
0
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 4:31 PM UTC
Get Stung
Everything alive is behind the Redwood Curtain. Somewhere west of Holy trinity, Oregon Pass and further still. River stones into the Pacific, swept. Parked vans on the 299 indicate a prolonged piss-stop. An old man has been camping in the same spot for 10 days straight, waiting on the radio. You listen in about the 9/11 inside job and then tune the **** out. There's a banjo being tuned in knee-high agua while the steelies dive too deep on a meal. Just beyond Blue Lake, the skinned knees of Grandmothers and wizard bums bleed into your morning coffee. And if you haven't been stung in Fieldbrook then what good are you?
Fleetfoot
Written by
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 4:31 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem