Poem - Aged Money Keeps Sometimes

aged
money
keeps
sometimes

everybody
swears

beyond
the handsome
fire
the dizzy
hair
springs
rarely
most
springs
round
the decrepit
cemetary
you
grinds
about
the quiet
blade
to
the rotted
justice
either
races

the new
earthquake
attaches
round
the canyon

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Poem - Bad Praise Kills