"burrowers" poems
infant star expanding
pushes out all but the matter you (might) shed.
one thing: moss hides stone. only burrowers & nightwalkers
have ever seen it, its - inhale . exhale
the space around you hums with enticing
clarity and i imagine even a
stranger occasionally nearly
thinks about the same millimeter of air.
black ash and waking, scraping plagues
of this modern world will extinguish
makers of entropy, retaliatory perfection of chance
leastwise: Naive won't be aware
of drowning noiseless in the gray jar of foam.
Dec 14, 2010
Dec 14, 2010 at 3:59 PM UTC
blood thin. her arm was at ease,
but cooked in her mind were beings like fleas.
They only grew fowler, more putrid with the heat.
she only grew weaker as you do in defeat.
well when you accept it anyway,
Ive known a thing or two about it
but she couldn’t hear me through curses she was shouting.
I guess that was the hardest thing:
My mind would keep guessing
as the fleas were surfacing.
So thats why I put her at ease.
For her head was for bed, so take her now please.
My own head is sweating, I need her still and to sleep.
So take her now please, before they burrow deep.
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 6:55 PM UTC