Thursday, March 15, 2018


He wanted to plant
A little absence
Like a seed, a hole

Out of which one world
Could pour into another.
He patted the dirt
And waited to watch it grow.

Rooted thin tendrils,
A void exploring its voice.

Every monster is alive,
And life’s the only monster,
But wants stirred that weren’t alive,
Their dark fronds furred in gone words.

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