It
was wrong. I
awoke just now from
dust in I
my
hair, tears
walked waist-deep
score years sleep
on
my cheek memory
in caustic
from which animals hide and boat-men
flee
awoke with the taste of your mouth on my lips somewhat singed by the slide of your fingertips and your smoke still stings my glassy eyes as I tromp through this wood and wade through I
your
I
lies
awoke just now from
score years sleep
a great deal wiser and free from your keep
you sense I have left as I flee through your glen your hounds of memory pursue me and then? I
will die in
your forest before
die in your ams, short of
Take the bloody
And no It
I
give in
you and short of sin
secret with
me
to the grave
longer slumber in the bed that you gave
was wrong
Jesse Rademacher
