July third two thousand eight

chadwickchadwick Posts: 21,157
Polluted veins
Ritual skins worn
Constricted coils of death
Ember glow
Eyes roll back white, roll back white
Embers glow
Chanting rings golden moon dusted haze
The funneled down goblet
Again…It has begun
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
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