Wissahickon

  • Running Without Looking

    Streamlined skull idling in the reed grassAmong the jumped fleet footed bones poisewhite ribcage releasing the coattails of winterheart pounding, feet pounding eating up earth and asphaltnothing can hold me downno one can catch me againgulping mouthfuls of warm moist air Calm wicks off my skinChunks of me careen away as I pick upSpeed trickles

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