Chasing | TriQuarterly : vimarsana.com

after Robert Creeley Bitten night spilling sharps. Lowing clouds eye the Pinelawns of dead influences to me. I’ll never live in a house with a woman who writes under an uneasingly settling sun. Contrapuntal outruns cannons. Darkness thousand rounds us to bed. Love for one all my rest. My mind too a mangle is.