Mused a Little Space

Black columns of cream and barley. Columns of water or time marked valuable. Her pose turns reclusively multiple. She is depicted as holding her own. She is known to hold a box of butter. And so on and so on and so on. You will get her, only smaller. Holding her own box, only smaller. Markets, you were what the rivers and highways wound down to, the exportation of a curse, a gleam refining currency. Who is this and what is here. A boat importing a body. Let her go like an animal into appearance. Glassy countenance, it is you she brings to town, you she bumps up silently to wharf.

Printed from Cerise Press:

Permalink URL: