Monday, December 30, 2013

Beth Fehrensen
Drift Away
In this weather
I just want to drift away into the heather
Sink beneath the bushes
Into the tender tips of her fingers
Mama Baba
Hold my hands
Not a mans
Make amends
To the inner devil
I hear your voice
The clouds
They smell it
Dark and rank
It rains today
Whether mother comes or not
The earthling
She is hot
Like a womb in which to grow
Festering in bacteria
Where's the hula-hoe
I wanna till this earth
Before the water comes
I'm gonna' take a good clear look
At this face
Mark down each scar
On the skin of a tree
So I can remember her
Remembering me
Because I deserve to live
To love
To feel and think
At the same time
It's absolutely fine
That my poems don't rhyme

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