I wander the crevices, red, swept into levels
of being and mood, entombed, being exhumed
A 29 year old cuneiform tablet, a replica for others to imitate
and stoneworkers to roughly administrate
splitting the asphalt like earthquakes that rupture the interstate
I travel because it beats staying in one place
and the streets aren't a radiant, fun place
fields of geraniums, fragmented archways
green carpet stadiums; he is the able tongued
that can talk their way into a good social standing
or sit in the forest, open mind, open hammock
- so unfamished
|