It is not the sturdy
wooden beams
that raise
the house
aloft
that I study
but instead
the rotting
wooden plank
still dark
and wet
that has
washed ashore
alone
that will hold
my attention
forever
It is not the sturdy
wooden beams
that raise
the house
aloft
that I study
but instead
the rotting
wooden plank
still dark
and wet
that has
washed ashore
alone
that will hold
my attention
forever
I have no strategyfor when I open my mouth.I’m just a lucky fucker. Darren C. Demaree Darren’s poems have appeared, or are scheduled to appear […]
Ambitious creature,I know you from a foreseen road.You would perform imperfectlove ballads as reflected fromgowns of a river swan.Catching prey in glass spider webs,woven from […]
Must go outside beyond the concrete square where I smoke long cigarettes & cough, pluck oak pollen from my hair & cough, spit, cough—not the […]