the river
remembers
lightning
bears you
within me
lay
the seeds
of life
renewed
the source
of silence
in the desert
keeps crying
name it
like dying
YOU ARE READING
trips
Poetrytalking about trips don't trip don't move don't groove sitting in street poverty such cross nailing you down in the tomb of lost paradise eating at your brain your eyes your infinite holes piercing the guts of well-fed bourgeoisie never gave you...
