new poem

Chesid Through Seal

One should wait with eagerness, hungry and endangered.
His wells I can hold underneath; a Jacob, rubbed dry--
When I have tapered his lands; I could-- relaxed-- drop
and red his purposes. My mouth and stirring perfected.
Selah. I have another purpose; I have another mouth-- his hope,
his palms, the transparent if. I become boy-nipped at the go
and go. Lord, clearly I can finish his hope mounted stalk,
his Galilee; his teachings hidden in thick curtained stroke.

The living curse remembered, a shimmering faced ghost
underneath. To glean saltiness amidst his disciple.
He's upward stroked into many dead children. But they own
their gloom. Never hungry is our chirped land, and his sign.