jueves, 12 de abril de 2018

the wind it blows


the delicate art
of hunting sound
it moves too quick
so quick
virtually exceling 
the speed of light
tictothetalk
ticktothetalk
make mine fly
upon the wings of the owl
ascending close 
the urge
my urge
to resist
fell so close to the morrow
to the marrow of my own fire

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