Vol. 7


RYAN MILLS
Poem

 

Or is it all but that rock(s)
grey courtyard naked trees.

& It is all but that this is
Fall & much September
alive & of.

Throw pebbles at the sky;
“    ing  “      “   “ se words;
they say wind or wind chimes.

Months pass by mistressed
mattresses  pebbly & one to climb
they say wind or wind

& It goes on & It is a lie & It
they say is a steep street & one
to climb.  Throwing pebbles

at sky or Or full moon?
Flies on full & crinkles
summer harvest & It is Fall.

& pebbles mean curl up finished
could not get more: re: much of
Throwing pebbles toward.

Or It is all but that grey.

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