A People’s Material

Insipid morning and the shortened route
wipe in the wall space of my home
dealing with disordered cotton
a solemn wreath day
with the common salts.
Come with me personally to the loss of life of belts
using its tremulous create
This windy warmth of the body and carrying serenity condemns me
with it’s sanguine wells like heart and brow
and dark waves like brow and roses
I’d like you to light about my hand
amid the transparent tail of the lightning.

Advertisements