A kind of wildness descends and across the expanse the attendant wind drones its one fecund song
Poetry / Taylor Johnson
When I am so tender in the thick
of rot I let all the morning wet
spread a plague across this threadbare
vessel that holds in what hums, what rushes beneath.
give as the ground gives:
Make of me your groveling tongue your muck.
Your possessed possessing.
never let up.