Written While Running

I don’t write poetry very often.  What follows probably explains why.


Creaking limbs pass the stumps and shards

of familiar old bystanders


by unthinking


alien creatures

Sun beats on bodies sprayed with day-glo prison camp numbers

A soaring legion lost to time’s desert

The carnage hides in wildflowers and goslings

The sunny, scenic devastation

of another thoughtless apocalypse

Tagged ,

4 thoughts on “Written While Running

  1. freakreborn says:

    Its has amazing flow, you should write poetry often

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