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| image by Edward Rinaldi © |
this is why I am...
stealing me
porous venal
colloquial poison drinking poem catching nostalgic
paper delivery, for instance, modernity turns
into, can't afford to retire adults
I see everywhere stretched too thin
kite hungered speculations. car doors repeating
finding words only want my vulnerabilities
maybe wind will lift
maybe it will carve
maybe dig what is
me, waiting for more
finished four words now five
skip ballistics arm my senses
especially all my funny bones
these terribly raw sensitive articulations
big words piled on gleefully
my gunned nation
under the thumb
of dumb god
praying
EJR ©
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