Thursday, September 17, 2015
The spring is a yawning hole
post-apocalyptic situation wherein all that works is a DOS command
they'd call you technologically proficient for engaging a raw prompt
the whole mouth, esophagus to gut, throughout which flora undulate
is the center you carry forward, ever acting on behalf of or to palliate
and as if swallowing yourself you tumble into a hoary spelunkee
and to greet you lie the others who can't turn their choices around
Illyn
"It's a shorter way of saying Illinois."
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment