on the clay we noted more than half of
the grain had spoiled, and the copper
was of quite poor quality but
we were then too many miles from
the great cities and their gods so
we crossed three more mountains dug six
more wells made our offerings with
fresh water and old song and waited so
tired but so hopeful it might work
this time then rain the earth slides and
the flies and filth the sores boils and
strange diseases but we walked and
found a green land one cool spring and
never heard the horses approach
Tag: flies
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the persistent question of what
to worship as more trees are downed
and we turn a corner search forsome snack catch a whiff of ourselves
though the tired stomachs of our
age could not completely digestthe story we’d been saving for
the kids when they ask which won’t happen
as they were only ever conceivedon hotel stationery now lost
to a dwindling apartment where
no matter how we tried to livethe light in the entrance slowly
filled with the bodies of small flies
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such energy though these eyes still blurry
but the day begins early & takes the blame
for every flattened patch of fur on the highway
for the last two weeks and what do I know I
wasn’t there but you feel the flies surround
you & maybe we got off on the wrong
foot and maybe that’s all there is now
in the still heart of the great machine a
few sparks with dances to come and yes we
can agree that I use the word too often
but it’s still the right one for the job and
out in the forest it sniffs a mushroom
and moves on since the field guide’s at home and
doesn’t want to take any chances