To The Guileless Rover

Grope eyeless in clover for pulse and white grubs.

Slam fists into roses for they will bud over,

red stripe and scab for your wresting.

 

Wade shoeless in the muck of your hardening.

Pound clay into cloud until arms fall

grotesque in your shaping.

 

Ram full into the brick of naught,

the stained jagged brow of thousands

who thought to topple the unbuilt.

 

There is little salve for your seeking, young friend.

Grope, grub, slam, wail, pound, fumble

in cloud, clover and sharp blooms.

 

Many have sought to plaster

the white wound of their nothing,

and found themselves laughing into scars.

◄ Life and Hard Candy

Falling ►

Comments

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Devon Brock

Wed 19th Jun 2019 23:34

Thanks, Jason.

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Jason Bayliss

Wed 19th Jun 2019 23:25

"Pound clay into cloud until arms fall

grotesque in your shaping."

Just love those lines Devon, they're a pleasure to say.

J. x

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