- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Vision 12.2.16
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The hawk flew above and led me backwards. One good eye and one green. Marcello had everything to do with it but at the same time, nothing. Worthless. We anoint and burn our dead then dance, not let them walk amongst us with their stench and filth. Other people have noses. Or we seal them tight with concrete so they don't seek souls. Rabbit was on the road, chewed up and guts out. I shed a tear but sped by anyway.
Children were smiling but other innocents are ill. This is the nature of things. The rubble and the smell. The mystic promises things will take care of themselves. North, West, South, and East.
