‘work toward a goal,’
they said. the month falls away.
another downed in summer heat. the seasons
take their toll
on everything. the bridges are falling faster
these days. faster than we can pick them
back up. our caste is weakening. you may
not feel it –
that doesn’t mean it isn’t happening. soon –
you will wake up
in the pit.
Well, it looks like I've majorly lapsed on the poem-a-day habit. Not to worry. I'm taking a short break to finish the Balkey story line....
“What,” the young, scarred and scabbed Scib said, “did Mr. Pin calm him – Bixson-” And Balkey closed the gap as soon as the word left the...
Tell him Coral has finally gone sour and the Pin is as crooked as we all thought,” fryed Balkey and eyed the straight and tall, the...