“And I wove the thing to a random rhyme."
~Austin Dobson
it is the weight of love on water
it is peter's feet on water
it is the smell of fishermen's daughters
it is pure and sweet and true
it is true and it is lethal
i am the bells that grace the steeple
i am the coroner and the preacher
i bury thoughts in moss
still mermaids hide in brambles
it makes no sense to ramble
it makes much sense to dally
you are the posterboards at rallies
i pen these words at midnight
i burned your words at midnight
i burned your words with daylight
i cut myself with love
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