Friday, November 11, 2016

Stretch Out

we don't stretch very far

and the cracked road sunk with rainwater

swell          flush out the rot of a million nation's tombs

wash thick red ink baked by waking suns     steam

on off-ramps and dye hard packed streets          chestnut brown

aged in iron casks          out comes meadering souls

to fill out the space between the white           lines

to amble forth     siphon the air from what's left of the earth.

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