death wants more death, and its webs are full:
I remember my father's garage, how child-like
I would brush the corpses of flies
from the windows they thought were escape-...
it sits outside my window now
like and old woman going to market;
it sits and watches me,
it sweats nevously...
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
8/5/2021 11:38:26 PM # 220.127.116.119