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| photo ---> me |
gearing up leering cup
blade to lip caught
drinking my own blood again
we practice these arts these starts these falls
to covered tarps, laid out like aircraft gone to die
a desert filled with how we used to be trees
with branches to the Moon and Sun
roots to the rain
and the rivers that run
practice the arts start singing
playing the plaid staid glad to be alive themes
dusting off the shelf fungus collection
dried with lacquer
they look dapper and offset any randy title
on the bookshelves
i like to view
my life sometimes
behind the screens
behind the screams
little figurines
poppet gleans
old soul sayings
some become
mantras
mostly who am i
where i am
what i am
and
by the time
this day ends
there'll be more dead
than there need be
and
i think i will feel an answer
i already know
nose to nose
what grows here
root to script
how
this last march hare
of a poem, ends
dipped you
dip i dip we do
the dip
EJR ©
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