Saturday, April 18, 2015

poem || Jeff Harrison

In The Outer How Lost Region

when you bend
we all must bend
and when you sigh
we too must sigh
and when the breaking is alert
we go there too
crowded in the mood and tone
the wood and bone
we go there too
up the drip where
the thieving
joins at the lip
of compassionate
though all-too
ravenous butterflies
lit in wet phone flesh glow
tasting prose birds in handfuls
a squishy amnesia, squirmy bites
now a welcome is better with faces, a lot of flavor

No comments:

Post a Comment