crouching on the strand,
forming definitely one brick. and one brick
patting the shit and straw
into rough evens, and fathoming
the sun. dream bake turn bake dream turn bake turn to dry. and hard. strong.
some bricks break. and
not. saving one and one
rain no sun no straw. double-dutching a puddle. there is
drought no straw no water. hide and seeking the dust.
there is no shortage of shit.
in plenty in even bright, measuring
mix the champagne and haunting.
bricks coming slow next to that tongue of questions:
of traveling snakes and god and.
one and one saving them.
sweating in
steeping in the biscuit rose and in the stink
creating magnificent castles
No comments:
Post a Comment