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BETWEEN BOMBARDMENTS
Come on
skylark
you door-to-door salesman overselling a song
claiming
it is fresh—
it was not
it was not
moistened
by your, or anyone’s, throat
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Barbara Guest
Santa Fe Trail I go separately The sweet knees of oxen have pressed a path for me ghosts with ingots have burned their bare hands it is th...
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Santa Fe Trail I go separately The sweet knees of oxen have pressed a path for me ghosts with ingots have burned their bare hands it is th...
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Love Tree Come, let us plant our love as farmers plant A seed, and you shall water it with tears, And I shall weed it with my hands until Th...
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