Anthills Poem by Dylan KD.

Anthills



Can anyone claim this metamorphosis a fiction?
This, that drops the pale which turns the soil?
You open underneath to stalemate the whale,
and your phases shake the tormented horse.

Catch the folded owl to blunder
the mock of livers motion
Centipede! Forgive the door
to close the yellow dozers.

Sunday, October 18, 2009
Topic(s) of this poem: horse
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