Dust - Poem by John Allen
breathing pine bush
leaves of green razor.
the march leaf hanging like a crippled
Your dark glasses and oily skin.
I speak, you look like
you just lost your best friend.
You belch carcinogens, the spilling
smile of smoke, grinning contours
Thick. my sympathy is rotten honey
burnt faintly when you move to ash.
A starless morning,
the cuffed breeze,
sky's crisp condescension with
the blueness of your monster: to
speak in taxidermy, words
empty sound bytes
your mouth reeling celluloid
stuffed with black feathers. I
will not see you long again, it
should grow dark tonight.
You will talk your way back into it
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