moses benard
traveler of galaxies
receiver of landscaping literature
you are my western border
you are my sign
that the edge is near
when your sky cranes lift
i feel the tremble
i surrender my microwave to you
you can have all my radios
tin foil and tube amps
fly though ice ages for your sins
i am your copilot
your homefire burning
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem