ThresherA Poem by JRI stand at the threshold to the thresher my fingers have coated with ash mind runs on oil gone bad turned black heart like leather, creased and butter soft my body a stain now all dirt and rumble there, like a clang, at the edge of consciousness; Anything that goes into the thresher is changed into core components reconfigured in the dynamo and cast out again in strips and ribbons as something new What of me will make it through? and how will I be changed? © 2020 JR |
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Added on February 9, 2020 Last Updated on February 9, 2020 AuthorJRPlacerville, CAAboutWriting again Interesting times to be living in, kind of a cool time to be a writer and documenting the world. more..Writing
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