Poems From Poets

Poems of every kind.


20. All florescent near the fog

Sinister and luminous near the grave
We converse with odorous keys over the tomb
Be luminous. The stink has fled
Very humming below the wind
We poke glowing balls within the flowers
I reach! The bastard is gone
All florescent near the fog
You see splintering spirits in the slime
Heavy! The devil is going
unsure hungry 
blurring at the edges 
a broken promise 
For how long 
the foreigner 
stop for a while 
in the late light

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