The Cars

The creeps
just come
here
there and tither
gone
is the
seller
packing up.

Still early
but the heart is still on
unbled
solitary
witness
nonetheless worthy
of brave
actions.

Cauldron
of witches
brew life
unlike
landslides
into mirror.

Or
firmaments of
dream
and morrows
sleeping places
quiet baths.


Jostling space
burden of the dead
unforgiven deals
of yore
gore.

Drive
a donkey
very fast
white.

Merry done to
shores
of false lament.

He was not killed
by others.

Only croc tears.