seventh_angel

I’ve seen the love-letter-shaped graffitis
on the industrial complex down the woods
where we can godfather wolves
we’ll never tame or even meet.
It’s that (dis)illusionary belief
in immortality through the carving
of our poems on logs soon to be axed
to print books that’ll never sell.
If we tape these moribund feelings in a song,
then they’ll live forever through amateur lo-fi
and an artist’s pretentiousness.
But we cannot deny that,
in a couple of years, we’ll forget the chords
of these songs we used to scream our guts out
in the rain that’s helping to put out the fire
on the woods where our godson wolf is dying

and we’ll never shed a tear for any of it.

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My Pieces

Friendship
The Vulture
Eh-bits
Tandem

New one: There's Nothing As Silent As A Cry Forn Help

kdownes

And with this you've cemented your style, I feel. I don't feel a word wasted here, and the way it circles back onto itself is clever. Final line, quick punch. I liked this, very much.

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