understandable poem
or not a poem, perhaps something else
Around here
unnamed graves are covered beneath
The streets
of this city
Boldly climbing wet rocks
in every direction
of age
Gold from the core of the earth
rusted wet leaf crust on top
And you call me elusive
perhaps I am
Her
you meet arriving
Poetry by Ghost of Heino
Read 182 times
Written on 2024-03-05 at 23:38
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