The unknown spells you
far from now and large
in kind letters on old wood.
Meet me in Manitoba.
It can be like you said,
white towers guarding tomatoes,
chickens itching wards in dust,
and I'll be in the weeds,
pulling poetry for the goats
from your dreams
of escaping the rot of blood
and soil.

03/02/2020

Posted on 03/02/2020
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