Early exercises.

herd of wild horses running across the river

A memory. Of clouds. How they carried early poems. As if to illustrate some measure. It had to do with distances. The ones between language and aim. The ghosts were not deterred. They had seen it all. So long silent, they were done with all that, pushing out from the chest, up. 

Like, Go

Like, Stand.

Like, There.

Author: Stacey C. Johnson

I keep watch and listen, mostly in dark places.

One thought on “Legs”

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