a mouth of sperm and guinness and the edges of the atlas temper honesty with need; would I had your legs, horatio, would I did but I don't, we didn't, the angels we thought were all around us aren't; by the traintrack I saw a mule and a donkey turn to face what must have been the sun; it was so damn cloudy I couldn't, really couldn't for the life of me tell. |
Tuesday poem #571 : Anna Reckin : Linearity
6 days ago