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Sifting shark teeth in the jagged riverbed;
There is a wire in the marrow stick
sparking red fever for the homesick
who tremble for a warm stead.
Who shall seek the heaven stature?
There is a blood dog in our hunger,
staunch and docile. Be not younger,
but a fickle blight in the rapture.
Hear the idiot, man!
With a broken cover
there is a blood dog in our neurons.
No! Do not feed the ashpan;
that metal calenture is my lover,
winged levers flock the chevrons.
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(June 19th, 2024.)
Me after being so distracted by creating rhymes that I screwed up the rhyming pattern of a sonnet.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Collection.
PoetryEvery poem that I have ever written in my designated poetry journal since the day I was eleven years old. Read at your own risk. 😎
