with red eyes raw
for sleepless, searching
for whatever bone is
left of love lies scattered
stone shores washing
ocean in every latinate
spoken crossing white crests
while flint drags
night to morning
flint drags night
3 responses to “flint drags night”
flint and bone and . . .
A little obsessed aren’t I?
I don’t question it. I probably should.
No need to question, just keep exploring.
Leave a comment. Markdown permitted.