Mudlark No. 54 (2014)


now floating, now swimming, now choking
in air the absolute pure
being whose mesmerizing
visible each morning
clouds blossoming like canker sores 
where men gather
beneath overpasses
“your soul like a network of spittle”
flammable, unnamable

Meredith Stricker | Notes | If I Get Lost >>
Contents | Mudlark No. 54  (2014)