Sorrow Addict

To my cell mates,  I promise
where the circling birds rise
we will follow;

see their iridescent
shooting arc.

Of these glittering, broken places,
geography of bone & rot

where we came from

bestow them to
the sorrow addicts.

Uniquely qualified, departure;
in truth, the vacant life depends

on violence.

Outside mist, layered hills
shake their heads, dip their scratchy beards

in darkness,

hide the stranger, prisoner
and stolen, fractured pieces
of a ladder.

1 comment:

Marcoantonio Arellano said...

wonder what the trees and mountains let alone the stellar universe think about our lack of human progress