We crawled like crabs along the shadowed ceiling,
like spiders we drop into the sleeping, gaping mouths and
roll in the gasping chokes and night time sobs
on the threads that sew the material, stitching the world in dingey wear houses
crumbling with each bodily tremor…
broken like a dollar store soldering gun…
Holy like the sneakers protecting the feet of those just out of reach.
The prodigal siblings birthed in the womb of the change purse.
YOU ARE READING
Confusion in Underground Clouds
PoetryThis is a collection of assorted poems, detailing one consciousness extending and swirling into another, and another, and another.
