poetry, senses, Uncategorized

Wood of the Self-Murderers

my first yawn observed by the leaves eyelets
afloat in the crosshatch of taut arms
with rivulets waiting to cave with patient sap

when down strained through the covey wood and passed
down through gummy necks snagging
down with each limb drawn to a snap

the wind runs my tumbling head
apart I am revealed the sinking seed
the fragment which contains entirety

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