Home.3 Poem by CAConrad

journeyman who
denies everything
even the journey
lost in a pile of
needles and spools
the only trees in this
desert are books
a bottle made of
ideas hits
the throat of the system
tell us about that gold watch you dropped into hot coals
shame's a balance beam
better off crashing to
the ground
stay there
stopping
the blood
a lot of blown-up
mountains to
keep the
lights on