Quarried stone, a life.
chadwick
Posts: 21,157
Empty wooden pews
shoot through my veins.
Why am I dying?
Quarried worked stone
stacked to the sun
passing up the sky
beyond wings.
Bloody steps
lead to an alter.
With my lips
begging to be quenched
a dusty windowsill
collects, separates, and divides
raindrops and feathers, raindrop feathers.
And feathers fall over me,
a blanket of sky.
“Let me drink”
my voice to clouds,
gray and wind.
Each one, each feather
her name.
shoot through my veins.
Why am I dying?
Quarried worked stone
stacked to the sun
passing up the sky
beyond wings.
Bloody steps
lead to an alter.
With my lips
begging to be quenched
a dusty windowsill
collects, separates, and divides
raindrops and feathers, raindrop feathers.
And feathers fall over me,
a blanket of sky.
“Let me drink”
my voice to clouds,
gray and wind.
Each one, each feather
her name.
for poetry through the ceiling. ISBN: 1 4241 8840 7
"Hear me, my chiefs!
I am tired; my heart is
sick and sad. From where
the sun stands I will fight
no more forever."
Chief Joseph - Nez Perce
"Hear me, my chiefs!
I am tired; my heart is
sick and sad. From where
the sun stands I will fight
no more forever."
Chief Joseph - Nez Perce
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