I do not like it here
I do not like what we have.
Take the shovel,
here.
Pigeon-toed,
austere.
Dig deep in the earth,
big capable man.
Plunge through that dirt
until you reach the other side.
I'm
restless
as desert dust
the steps on me,
heavy.
Plant in me
the rose
and garden
the romance.
Won't you
resuscitate
the dear
in my tongue
tighten
the clutch
of these arms
soften
this face,
unalarmed
out of its casket
into a smile...
Take the shovel,
here.
You’ve been cold too.
Your body is quivering
so
dig
through
that
dirt
Dig deep in the earth,
big capable man.
Bring us both back
the last breathing rose.
But the man with the shovel
never came back...
However
I did hear he reached the other side.
Feb 1, 2017
Feb 1, 2017 at 11:59 AM UTC
I do not like it here
I do not like what we have.
Take the shovel,
here.
Pigeon-toed,
austere.
Dig deep in the earth,
big capable man.
Plunge through that dirt
until you reach the other side.
I'm
restless
as desert dust
the steps on me,
heavy.
Plant in me
the rose
and garden
the romance.
Won't you
resuscitate
the dear
in my tongue
tighten
the clutch
of these arms
soften
this face,
unalarmed
out of its casket
into a smile...
Take the shovel,
here.
You’ve been cold too.
Your body is quivering
so
dig
through
that
dirt
Dig deep in the earth,
big capable man.
Bring us both back
the last breathing rose.
But the man with the shovel
never came back...
However
I did hear he reached the other side.
