Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sep 2020
This range
spilt upon rock
by novelty and pull
leaves out hope
that torpedo
of breathless blood
on the rod
its a soul roundup
and branding
get together
of lessening selves
for, i imagine, something
i imagine
outcropping your hopes
and you **** back
in how-ness
i'm here

holding time
against what
was said then
Written by
Dennis Willis  Oh
(Oh)   
72
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems