His feet are not unpredictable, the lynx,
for he has no hoofs.
The
moon
was
foreseen like the many
many holes in his body.
There is no wrong side of the tracks
because the tracks are gone.
And with our every step the ground
burns beneath our feet
ever since he went to sleep under
a street light
and we
gently
rocked
out of communication...
Fuck but do I regret the death of the elves and
the collapse of Dallas,
the all-American animal.
The sun goes down in all of its glory
over the smoke of old buildings,
and old Dallas strikes a light by the tracks
that are the church
for his mean, towheaded punches.
Comments
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Very interesting piece here. Very good though...but still very interesting. The layout of it is pretty wicked. Nicely done. Keep it up!
The One and Only...
~Lynn Jones
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Thank you.
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Interesting...
*Puts hand on chin*
Nicely laid out though.
Samuel
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