Above this town where I lay sleeping young happily birds convulse minutely one tremendously blown hilarious green leaf of wind (in ochres of eve 5 it is dying) come suddenly finally up from compactly hysterical graves. Bliss fully mindless is of these faces on the pickets these sweatless heads in dole attire; these pink purple blades 10 who are flying who are the dentings my footfalls have said along the edges of day and crisply space and down down dwindling once wells of when remit (for it is summer and pregnantly snowingly dusk)
From the collection "Youth Youth Youth"
Written by Gregg Glory [Gregg G. Brown]
More information available on gregglory.com.