I leave land tonight.
Hawk to haw.
Tonight, I’ve landed.

Nothing but sound
that bleeds into the
night. Like vital ripple,
along the edges
of wind.

I leave.
Like simple army.
In eight or 8.

Afraid.
Of the air and the
antrum of galaxy.

I leave the earth
bruised with memory,
I cleave to dust
that is heavier
than the
truth.

I leave already
the toy of this
dance.

I leave paradise,
like a land above
neither.

My shudders.
I’ve selected the flowers
that collide and the weak
islands that are seen.

I must leave the leaves.

Like the people that love.

I must sail a modern flame of palms,
and act like a massacre of morality.

If pulley is confounded with plague
and the sky like a scream of a drunken
why.

I leave, grotto and volcano
and life as hour and dream.

I daaa.
an da.

I leave the earth of mirror
and marrow.

I rhyme a depth like
a prisoner of laugh.

I leave and tonight.
Sense and behold.

My mother, all alone,
against the door.

 

 

Contemporary Poetry