Monday, April 16, 2012


Fortune favor some sleeping bird,
the universe will reveal itself to a
deaf mute, Gabriel
didn't have a pen on
him, or a sword,
he made
everything up then

Warm milk, stale barn air,
vacuum stall then, I whicker as
a horse, pass me, bridle hand meadow
skin as white like moon,
cradle us, cradle your grapes
until wine flows your veins love

Eat then,
sleeps the dirt

No comments:

Post a Comment