I vanish into the veneer like a champ to avoid
the She that holds sway over my inhabitants.
These are simple folk who speak in tongues of
those who raise pitchforks, those who storm
holds and keeps; they yell at her, reject her first
I’m vibrating between realities of close and farther
than synecdoche. This is all I need to defeat her.

And then shoes are dropping everywhere
while I’m hallucinating farming,
stumbling around cow pastures, hiding
among knees and bones and trees-
The water is violent, I’m cold on the inside,
I see stuff that happens when no one is watching.

She moves through phases of idolatry and ultimately
settles with fusion. I have a hard time adjusting. I’m slow,
like an edifice.

Posted in Dreams, Poetry. Bookmark the permalink. RSS feed for this post. Both comments and trackbacks are currently closed.

Comments are closed.

Swedish Greys - a WordPress theme from Nordic Themepark.

ugg boots uk
cheap uggs uggs outlet cheap jerseys