Thursday, September 29, 2011
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Text
When I awoke the forest was empty,silent
as a broken cathedral.
The winged ones who had attempted flight
were bullet-riddled;the glowing ones
torn from the earth;the little ones
crushed into bruised pulp
as a broken cathedral.
The winged ones who had attempted flight
were bullet-riddled;the glowing ones
torn from the earth;the little ones
crushed into bruised pulp
I have failed them all.
by Micheal Fosburg
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