Insomnia & Little Butchers at Black Heart Magazine

from Insomnia

“The raccoons are into the empty beer cans again
their percussion, their chirping indigent song
I reckon they are building rocket ships, time dilators…”

from Little Butchers

“There is a swallowed stone, hidden in the bursting
belly of all things There is a singing root, burrowed
into the lungs A bird sewn up under the skin…”

Read more:

Two Poems at Black Heart

 

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