April 14, 2014

It's Far Too Soon to Tell What Manner

Time has it

And angles have it

And even the last hooded shadow has it.

Then pragmatism, then simple math, then the end of days

Or southwestern sunsets

And crazy things doubled over after a long walk and a long winter.

Saddle up and want not.

Pack it in and want at all.

Come feathers and something to drink, it does you well

And sleep and whatever tricks you have to yield a quiet mind

While they render and manufacture and tear it all down

Everything that bleeds bleeds