Hungering, goes
The hunter green vine
Winding up walls
Of a cinder block throat.
Swollen thoughts
Coursing from
The belly of memory,
Splits rock
In the pulsing edifice
Erected around
Men endowed
With bones of metal
Crumbling flesh
Broken Hearts
Are hauled off
As delicacies for
Peasants.
Archives
- May 2023 (4)
- November 2019 (2)
- October 2019 (4)
- August 2019 (3)
- May 2018 (15)
- December 2017 (1)
- September 2017 (2)
- August 2017 (1)
- July 2017 (2)
- April 2017 (2)
- March 2017 (2)
- February 2017 (9)
- January 2017 (11)
- December 2016 (6)
- November 2016 (6)
- October 2016 (7)
- September 2016 (3)
- August 2016 (5)
- July 2016 (2)
- June 2016 (2)
- May 2016 (3)
- April 2016 (4)
- March 2016 (8)
- February 2016 (16)
- January 2016 (18)
- December 2015 (12)
- November 2015 (9)
- August 2015 (4)
- July 2015 (1)
- June 2015 (9)
- May 2015 (5)
- April 2015 (12)
- February 2015 (5)
- January 2015 (16)
- December 2014 (15)
- November 2014 (3)
- October 2014 (7)
- September 2014 (29)
- August 2014 (14)
- July 2014 (32)
- June 2014 (18)
- May 2014 (16)
- April 2014 (14)
- March 2014 (19)
- February 2014 (4)
- January 2014 (2)
- December 2013 (1)
- November 2013 (2)
- July 2013 (2)
- April 2013 (3)
- November 2012 (1)
- October 2012 (3)
- September 2012 (6)
- August 2012 (8)
- July 2012 (8)
- June 2012 (1)
- May 2012 (3)
- April 2012 (3)
- March 2012 (13)
- February 2012 (9)
- January 2012 (14)
- December 2011 (15)
- November 2011 (29)
- October 2011 (5)
- September 2011 (7)
- August 2011 (6)
- July 2011 (8)
- June 2011 (2)
- April 2011 (38)
- September 2008 (2)
Recent Comments
- Anonymous on Invisible as the Wind
- Anonymous on The Art of Love
- Anonymous on Just Passing Through
- skipavm@gmail.com on Just Passing Through
- Anonymous on Just Passing Through
Meta
Reads well backward, too.
A curious mirroring. Then you read it as I wrote it.
Love this!
Thank you dear friend for seeing through it