deepundergroundpoetry.com
< past the end of things >
consumed and infinite out here
and vague
and tired
and gravel gray
a ball
is worn
a hand
is still
the grass
is dry and crushed
and all the photographs
face down
our dented cans
of soup
of beer
our dusty explanations
we're
out past the end of things out here
- - -
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