Riede Faires


Fully crush, pulled beneath, drag along to totally quenched and
all so quash

like a leaf on a lake.

While some disintegrate, most coagulate, enumerate, and decompose, still
few are tossed up

dashed to rocks. Limp-pasted-shadow-filters
helpless in a dampened station.

Awakened were these senses calmed among, they, pleasure-wove
condensed my understanding

pulled my trees by better roads.

For there leaves continue, and hands to them inscribe
one will find when placed in venue

beneath or hung to dry?

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PoetryJeremy Bibaud