these are the souls. the black burn
ish in the white room—these are t
he souls. crept on low tide shoals l
abile conjuring the morning tolls f
or cast iron fancy & mother may i
these are the souls. an april for da
ndy and dancing to fight; make lo
ve after lusting her elegant flight f
rom body to body we call it deligh
t. these are the souls; these are th
e souls. periphery darkens the me
aning you must a call for belongin
g in god you trust and now you go
singing for delicate sluts. the burn
ish is almost always somber. the c
ity staccato we carry in this in this
these are the souls & these are the
souls
1 comment:
might i just say this is the best you've ever written to me.
also, better than a lot of shit you read from professional poets.
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