Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
as none were made. no brawn
to be spoken of today.

along the coast to aeron,
aberaeron, to chase the ghost,
look out to sea.

gone now, ragged curtains hang.

***** windows.

more dice take us,
scissors hang in corners,
to cut and paste
the dogged words of life.

chant the twisted trees
of chancery, note the roots.

no comments found.

sbm.

— The End —