deepundergroundpoetry.com

Is it like a dead species pushed under our feet

We should keep keep on laughing.
In the woods
the shadows of the leaves of the trees
play an odd lip synch over her forehead.
 
It is too far to get anywhere before night.
That is something I would think
and that there are dreams
she could finish before me.
 
Is it like a dead species pushed under our feet.
We walk through the sound of a chainsaw - things must be constantly
growing up here. If her voice was cut away I would have woods
and woods to tell.
 
One day,
we lay on the beach.
 
I want to laugh it all into the water.
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