Wednesday, October 7, 2015

from Trilogy/adam fieled


Infinite complexities of pleasure, pain—
how the natural world impinges upon
humanity’s artifice— we are at the sky’s
mercy, it casts its complexities in color

upon what we attempt to blacken/whiten—
how pathetically fallacious we are. I climb,
perfect images of measly minds here to
deal hemp mock my impatient teardrops—

but cleanliness, here, is the soul’s last stop—

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