Fellow | Poetry
From CrashWhen I asked questions, the angels lied,
Or else they’d fidget like parents talking of sex;
Or they’d open the window farther, revealing more pain,
More spectacle: whole worlds churning in war, in fire–hysterical.
From CrashWhen I asked questions, the angels lied,
Or else they’d fidget like parents talking of sex;
Or they’d open the window farther, revealing more pain,
More spectacle: whole worlds churning in war, in fire–hysterical.
