Tuesday, October 25, 2016

(part of )Gravem Co.

Jesse S. Mitchell

But we didn't denigrate the sky, even for abundances of clouds.
I've lived forever, two hundred thousand years, between these far mountains. In this valleyland, swampland, choked mud high, levelland, draining away but as all the waters collect
And every year, two years, here and there, from down the slopes, they come collapsing, clasping hands and singing, the songs political, and the sweet and pleasing odors rise to the skies and the angels in heaven hear and know to be near and spread over us their wings and to be safe from fear.
Our fear.
Like embers, untended.
And the smoke drifts.
And not necessarily narcissistic, but we peer into the pools, the surface waters, and watch it all happening.
Down to our bones.
Down through our skins.
We feel the ripples, ourselves nothing but the but the troubled waters.

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