three poems

stackpile the wounded war

insulated by tranquilizers

they called us incontrovertible

and pushed us lower into the dregs

taking away away away more freedom

trying to help until

there was nothing left but it

an instinct to freedom

undermines the ability to escape the pincer


plying the weather ways

under the silent eyes

stress distortion brings on insolubles

strictly filtering jeers son

piling on the tens until break


a woodpecker strickling

flibbits on the syl

midgens of sethins

climb mine cuffsnonkls

intropic columbrustas

zakkad decrun meso



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