Untitled 19

Once on a long planet ago pages and pages spread in the shining sun rolling overhills and so upp upp upp we climbed, isn’t it? Tired oh tired eyes this place bright like butter. Climbing yes oh that birdlet remember shat on my wrist I had to stop and pray. You stacked the rocks for me, upp and upp. One time over over the hills this too the broth spilled from my brother’s cup and there I go again the way of old. If you’re lucky milk a goat on the way. I take my flight of you now.

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One Response to Untitled 19

  1. bright like butter. . . and your eyes.

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