The crack in his skin falls down to the bones
a split that starts here at your feet
and stretches upward. As far as you can see.
Cleaving the plain in two.
Which side are you on? Are you hiding
in the bumps and fissures of old wounds,
waiting to crawl from the the scars when darkness
blurs the edges of here and now?
Or will you travel this fresh path
straight and chiseled, to its unseen end?
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My poems, and poets that have inspired me.
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