Warsxzaw There was always the Wet blacktop. There was always grey Warsaw clouds Threatening to drain Onto the small world. From heavy nebulas In the heavensya Where mist rolls In webs To aerosol ticks Jumping. Falling. Falling Through open sky, Past trees and Telephone poles, The ticks land On wet blacktop, Crawling in cracks UnderContinue reading “Warsxzaw”

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