theres small gems in the rough salt
an LED gleam on a crocodiles back
i dig for a loose edge with a dull slate
nothing in my hands an animal never had
under pregnant eggs and the yawning sky
and a fog is coming down / its horror film dense
its the steaming factory lube in my atomic clock
and under the yawning sky we all fall and happen
its an opera of dirty cotton / its italic birds
and
i up
wonder me
pull
that it doesnt
into its horrible absence / apparently eternal
cows by caitlin herd, oils 2009 from artistsdaily.com
