523 Readings | 0 Ratings
Without my having noticed
Not that I could leave
But could no longer stay
Inside the small
A glimpse, overheard
my death word
The soldiers are bored / but their orders were strict: / / give each a trial. / This takes a while— / / twenty blamed men / …
Tender times such as these demand that history be taken up as a serious mandate against those who would run us underground, setting aside for a…
red feathers stilt the sun / / shaking a concoction of the sky / / pods are made these days and / / a darning we will go / / lip up the…
Would you like to leave a comment on this profile?
Ink Node for a free account, or
if you are already a member.
© Ink Node, 2018