• Vol. 07
  • Chapter 06


Striations unseen by earth-bound eyes
Scratched to the thrumming march of concrete strings
But within sharp boarders there’s no disguise
It’s clear we’re tidying the world. Of things
Not wired, with hopeful wings and revolting
Skins. These boarder lands we bleed and thirst for
Are no more than forks of lightning jolting
Across cracked ground. Above us, free wings soar