Friday, April 15, 2016

“Cut your eyes closed, child.”/Zachary Scott Hamilton

Blind man,
leading fingers inward towards
the trap doors
cycling where the windows
I was cigarette mouth man
in a story
only meant for
a whisper –
Some great roar.
He rotates the position and presses three buttons
all at once.
“I am alone and she is alone, together at last”

“winter mist continues a cycle
through bars.”

Her lung tissue separates
“housing for the blind.” She thinks.
The rivers cross her spine.
She snores into the cot,
of better places
along the
overlooking mountains, oceans of chamomile.

1 comment:

  1. This poem stems from a long time journal I kept. it's taken out of my early life and based from California, hitch hiking, biking and experimenting with different drugs.
    It also seems to reference an early fascination with orifices.