Fighting in the wood pew
Grass under nails.
Snakes feast on rats
In
Our circle un
Ending.
Bury me by
Willow blossoms,
Tatted wood,
Rusted iron, and
Torn leaflets.
You’re welcome here.
Come lay here.
Follow the lady bugs
In the smell of diesel
Gasoline.
They say luck.
They say try.
They say carry.
They say
Forget.
On Sunday we string together
Pieces of caster.
Grate
Metallic.
Tastes of iron.
A perfect casting,
They say.
A superb greeting
They say.
I prefer
Thorns and juice
In wet clay.
A mold
To the past,
A mold
To the change.
They say, my body is nothing, but
Short of fury, evaporated dew,
Cut grass-lets.
I died in the lamenting
Where I only dreamed of gold.
But
They say I carried
The
River.
Made the gold.
Grass under nails.
Snakes feast on rats
In
Our circle un
Ending.
Bury me by
Willow blossoms,
Tatted wood,
Rusted iron, and
Torn leaflets.
You’re welcome here.
Come lay here.
Follow the lady bugs
In the smell of diesel
Gasoline.
They say luck.
They say try.
They say carry.
They say
Forget.
On Sunday we string together
Pieces of caster.
Grate
Metallic.
Tastes of iron.
A perfect casting,
They say.
A superb greeting
They say.
I prefer
Thorns and juice
In wet clay.
A mold
To the past,
A mold
To the change.
They say, my body is nothing, but
Short of fury, evaporated dew,
Cut grass-lets.
I died in the lamenting
Where I only dreamed of gold.
But
They say I carried
The
River.
Made the gold.