UNIDENTIFIED CRAFT
A map in the shape
Of a kite scans over
The land it paints
Nodding to the strings
That no one sees
Though they be de-
tached–God’s hand
Nevertheless
Beats me tirelessly
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A map in the shape
Of a kite scans over
The land it paints
Nodding to the strings
That no one sees
Though they be de-
tached–God’s hand
Nevertheless
Beats me tirelessly
Like Batman singing along to some gospel. But without the cape or Alfred, little Bruce sat down like a hero at the children’s table and poured some cold cereal and a tall glass of bourbon through a straw then began to iron a dead rose,... Continue →