Poetry Blog by Stuart Buck

i am very far

but here is a softness

bruised knuckles brushing ears of wheat

a slight refrain

a ponderous disintegration of viola and clarinet

and gregor woke one morning as something alien

a mystery, clad in chitinous jade and with feelers, many eyes

could i be this burden to you?

a cloud passes the window

something pillow-like, nebulous

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