Tuesday, December 5, 2023

Song of the Wheelchair

Even the crows talk of someone else,
Someone who matters
So I can release my great brace,
Smell the exhaust of squealing freedom
Squirrelled out one nut crack at a time,
The inordinate candor
To a squalor of truth
That still floats inside the blues 
Chased like bitters away,
To draw close to.