1/6/14

Pocket

Landings
These bevels
To the principle 
Of creation
Pooling 
Bubbling into elation

My people
Oh my people!
Through the peep hole
Hiding within
The womb of masterful shroud
Bustling anthills
With your churchless steeples
Melding forth above it all

Oh my friends
In the waters of bends
Like and undersand sea
I've killed your seed
In what sunlight
That I need 
To see 

1 comment:

  1. http://itsthevictorianera.blogspot.com/2014/01/lost-in-mist.html

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