never learned the art of reaching out
but read a book or two and tried
to love a little world with what it could
and then could not not to be unclear
of course it’s just this hearse running
it’s ragged curse over the bones
and their children back in the mines
thanks to you know who who would
not move an inch for you though you
suck his filthy brim and beg for snacks
until the air runs out and new games start
so we must learn the fresh languages
fast or we won’t last a minute like that
time I could look nowhere else but down
Tag: children
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Ten more pounds as you breath this air in
while small flying things establish more
colonies on a significant
portion of your disregarded
land mass while an occasional stormbrings no relief to little Tom
in his prospect of geraniums
thumbing in peace far from the noise of bones
being broken for the amusements of childrendays grow too dark under the broiler
strange birds visit for a moment and
fly back as one of my fatherssaid those wandering clouds at least
are worth a couple careful words
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In the morning you can reach out and see on the breeze in the mind the damp stone tightening straps keep him in place the pain in his cell the confession conversion meaningless at this point or the life by the sea rough stone grey the children I pushed through and lined up in the earth and the cliffs so beautiful lonely one time one town on the frontier barely built I can still smell new cut wood that simple home sun creeping through seams in the wall another sunny place warm weather sweet breeze always fetching writing down his many thoughts the wine was good
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My device displays the estimated time it will take to finish this chapter 29 minutes to 32 to 43 minutes a minute later. I see the children of my children’s children and the joy on their faces as they finish the prologue.
Saturn at dawn on the wind could be my voice as a child