the rivers of it, abridged

New York City skyline at night




Marina Mati

life among bones

in a burrow beneath poor man's headstone
yearning for immortal blue
i hear starlings' flame-throats toss sparks

broken dog-mind finds population of screams
red shoe pirouettes
trapped on faces under pretender sky
trees' futility buried there

i stare out of a window as the best waitress
serves up static to cover underground hum
disparate songs filter through blindness
will spring never feel the same?

miles of words funnel
into a requiem of bone and ash
sifted through fingers billions of fingers
sifting through swollen senses
each a rabid dream of earth



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