Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Feb 15
Yellow, made of meat and fragrance
I return to the village w/o regard to the needs of others.
They drip,
heavy like honey, necessary like existence.

Lightly stone-faced
I am unwarranted in a free state
of height, brilliance, and tradition.
No one seems to be laughing as they melt into bush and branch and insect and ****.

In total mortgage against God and faith and aether,
there is operation.
Flesh be to those without name.
Flesh be to those in motion.
Otis
Written by
Otis  Slightly to the Left
(Slightly to the Left)   
273
   Fawn
Please log in to view and add comments on poems