Dylan Everett: New Poetry
Textroots. (5 poems)
Tree flow she knows no end in the wind and dirt and poison she breath, no breeze no delicate hope, no dirt in the wind, no scope in the leaves that breathe dead stars, we antelope with horns we winged things we shivering motions we broken dreams we all inhale the same dead stars.
Tree flow and rain it comes in plains in eyes from far away, these rains of lost time, these schemes these entrails these endless rays that come down on the leaves that sway, that...