Abora

pines and canaries

5/13/18 6:57PM

life south of the canal
is a goddamn paradise
there are birds
all screaming
and i can hear them
the sirens are gone
except from a wistful distance
and there is grass
so much grass
i can laze about the roots
and look up to see nothing
that’s the void i can get behind
blue cracks in the viridian canopy
that never falters, even in the cold
blossoms
blossoms and smoke
and shrubs to be culled
things to be moved
i sweat my own work
and it makes it bearable
the shed is dead
and replaced with other squatters
if there were ever a place
to revive my shambling corpse
it’d be in the fires of elma
where the apples are grown

Comments1

  • SLR

    You paint a vivid picture. Grass, so much grass, laze about the roots. Sounds great. Good post.

    • Abora

      thanks SLR :)



    To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.