Friday, November 11, 2016

Purged Fruit

on the grasses
                       purged of fruit
if this and everything
                                   all dried
with this stray thread
a struggling shadow form
resplendent with aching fires
                                                 naturally catastrophic
on the grass
                    without water
sitting in brown sop
everything teased up on our fingers
as quicksand takes the field
                                             buried tailors
not much use for clothes
                                        dirt feet
in the moss up in the tree
                                         not to be seen
on the grasses
                       waking the meadow
wandering up on tectonic plates
                                                    the ozone
freezing rain and thunder freezing
                                                       and sleet
on the grass
                    my pruny feet
the last thought
the raffled off remnants
                                      rainforest man
on the grasses
                       nothing to eat
drinking oil black
from before
                    for after
behind our looking glass eye
                                               a wasted valley
a sudden wrathful swarm
                                         chequy arms
some odd colors as before
on the grass
                     and more
on the grasses
                       as before
on the grass
                    rotted spoils
on the grasses
                       purged and gored

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