Out
 listen now, wrinkling husk of the wheat: now or then, it did not matter, but forgone, it comes back around again. come down out of there, now. tend to that mess before supper - no chance to get out of the house, again. the disarray! standing, splayed - overgrown, lonely, half-awake. blasted, or washing away. words aplenty, nothing to say. through his night where even demons find the story mundane, starving for knowing before dew and the shakes #poetry