Category: Narratives

Listened stones imbue the origin.

Bloodturns of the domedial, sunk.

As remember crows cry at faces,

all shot bullets are plumbed to pierced.

Thin rodeo wire keeps you moon,

in muted orbit girth expand.

Fated, you’ll once pull loose,

craze the oceans,

and loftly crash into Jupiter.

Slim oak switch cuts the sky a new horizon.

Hollowing dark rises, set pales down.

Gravel my fingers palm.

Pulted up for bats to dive on.

Earth geargrinds hums from within my pillow,

deeper than cloud high.

Imagining our together soil bones, sleeps.

The sun will ingest us all.

Barn old,

the wooden sunpoled air hasn’t been hayed in ages.

Still, the quiet soothes.

In the corner,

famished spiders wrap dust like prey.

No cookie mothered this mess of penny fortunes.

Soaked loose paperboats crowd the kiddie pool.

Pry up the daiseys & split.

Undetailed,

the trees shadow- shimmer,

darker than the star dim sky.

These schoolbook pinholes,

the stillest ocean,

churn whisper, turn.

This twilight field.

Lightning bugs spark thriftly, hover.

Over that hill might be the highway,

but crickets dampen air with their lovesongs