for a time I hunted a tune and walked
the parched steppe far from the clusters of white
towers and I know there are fine folk there
I won’t mumble the educational
-industrial complex. Some of
its products do not fail to amuse and
inspire. But my stock of sharpened reeds, soot
knucklebones, and, please, let me start again.
There is fear of water, whirlpool,
and her of the cave on the way to the
singers who will soon break you down to the
up and rebuild you in the style of a
prevailing house as part of its wall and
another wall and waves always higher
Tag: walls
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What solar-powered syntax will break through the city’s thick walls later wielding a heavy pen he stumbles never to blink again
But the pen won’t start so the precious possibility with a suitcase secretly packed disappears beyond the hill
Where the music comes from on those nights though despite his best attempts we left feeling as though we hadn’t eaten at all
other animals 