A musing inspired by The Muse of Cold Earth Where the Saints Dance Defiance can be found At the bottom of a glass Or, on concrete After you cut your teeth on the curb Grating the brain out of your skull like shredded cheese In the name of the saints Their eyes are closed butContinue reading “WD 163 “Where the Saints Dance””
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WD 68 “Grief”
A poem inspired by the Muse of Cold Earth. Grief Prolong my vampiric edge My lifespan, wide as a pin, as long as a road whose end is Smothered in mist -Regard the little people as you would Ghouls and cattle All with varying purposes and different odors Match majesty with majesty Look me inContinue reading “WD 68 “Grief””
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