17 October, 2015

Some Desert

Limbless, sucking on orange leaves
I am fractured in nine holy pieces
Careless bones swim in blood
pointed toward some desert,
some sanctuary
But not everything has worth

In the dark, even poets may smile
with only bones to tether to,
their phantom pains pacing
The dark is irreparable
I pray in the desert, laughing
Prosodic breaths

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