Thursday, April 27, 2023



The smell of the rain after a dry stretch

Lacquers the mind from the rot of doubt

Before the Greeks ever knew of fungal spores 

They were able to get a certain truth out 

Divine blood spilt from split stones

Wafts around us in the spring gusts

How strong the heart of stone must be

To squeeze its golden cargo through veins of rock

Every wet stone after a storm is a kind of corpse

That tells us this must be the place 

Where a hardness bled to death

So a dying man like you could live


No comments: