076: The Nimble Afflicted Mind

Dave is romping.

Out of that striped wound in the sky I see a tongue, eyes following then an affront of ants. Symbols of poetry. Stone masons might do better with words or crack addicts.

The chimes turn my attention to leaf shadow where I read smoldering psalms.

Kill you dead I did with sticks and ferns.

I look up often for some sign of her in the after rain. And in the tricks water and blood erect in the mellows.

The sky and those verbs behind the clouds while Dave romps.

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