steal me feed me die me

steal me feed me die me
in days of slow comprehension
drive me up the dark country
seep me through a wiry extension

drilled in back water shoals
I often fish while sleeping
in trees by summer schools
with the sun silently creeping

dovetailed and winged today
I slept you across the scary hall
where man made machines pray
for the almost dead to make a last call

find me not in disarray
where I river blind survive
where the silent I can play
find me not so unkind and alive

time for another day done
with I somewhere in motivation
in an oxygen relief gone
deep into its own ramification

summer is best ingested
with swallows in flight
armories makes you congested
with fury in fiery might

I see you with a shovel walking
never reversing while talking

with flowers sunrays and a beer
I move festive trees in a song
where badgers roam and deer
really – what could go wrong

I see you moving stones and time
in a looming booming with lime

when the sun in us is heavily set
behind the earth that moves today
there can be no summary regret
no antimatter coming out to play

I loved you rolling in the sun
heavily smiled with I on the run

ditched in a bright light calling
I see no heated danger yet
in day’s burning breath falling
extinction is just a bet

hold a hot eye to the day I make
with so much hot ash to rake

(pages 34-35 in the new book I from

Poetry by Bob
Read 151 times
Written on 2018-03-30 at 00:31

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