deepundergroundpoetry.com

Isolated objects  (roadside incident)

 
Thought I was laying in my garden
with my hands deep in soil
but I was there on an island
shooting flares at Your boat---Nathan Willett



Broken across the back of once heralded halos
out in the open fields
tires burnin' dark

paste the flesh orange
ripping it up again
another black stain on history
 
passed through our hands 
tattooed on their backs 

and where have their windows 
with rocks in every corner
brought home

I don't know
For the curtain is shut

optimistic and sure we are

original
dancing shadows 
to rumor mill
swinging silencers 

...and You just stand there gawking 
with one flat tire


Written by souladareatease
Published
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