Dog Tired Bones Poem by Bengt O Björklund

Dog Tired Bones



These dog tired bones
that slowly rot to mire mass
in hollow perpetuation
are but smug charlatans
hiding dark dreadful deeds
behind a crude ceremonial cloth
and name it creed.

Misty mislead nuns cry in the night,
moist monks dream of young skin.

These dog tired bones
have walked too far
and seen far past
shrouds of dead acumen.

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