Destinations Poem by ben myles

left again to blend into gods creation,
he heads for the nearest levee, in hopes
of finding his original destination. things
have changed, as has he. he tells all
currently surrounding the campfire that
he will send post cards stamped with
his own blood, written with ink at the
end of a crows feather, never been one
to use a traditional pencil. there are
no writing utensils where he is going,
only vultures, and wildlife of the past
and present

natures graveyard; and soon his own.