I stopped waiting.
feet, here, take root.
knows no other life.
are immense debt of justice.
feet, the feet are full of jumps.
break out of the pedals, the puddles.
It 'not your fault drought, death,
the downward thrust that knocks
the heart.
you're gone how did you come
Grasp the sternum,
taking notes on my bones.
I saw the black man writing poetry virtual.
Stigmata of poems, tiny deposits of poems.
And I in my red book I lent her wrists.
I ask the black man's abduction,
possession, I misunderstood the meaning of the speech,
and I struck my heart, singing the pain of bumps,
smoothing for twelve months point.
Black man running in parallel,
is held in balance on my perfect day.
The shooting of sucking away cravings. Get away
with my echo in the orbits.
