tanner brockwell

click click
by tanner brockwell

click click
rotary motion
the smell of hell
the reverberant air
tanging on the tongue
built and felled
psyche emergent
this rustle
in the prairie grass
the wind blows
constant change
cold as ice
cold heart
nickel copper base
rings you cannot wear
something says
as neighbors say
walking upon the unpaved
riding upon the wide
and open the door
there is destined to be
something you could play
the air swirls like storm
leaves tremble
tips and edges dance
here for mortality
here immemorial
here is a long time
the shutter click
like a heart
a heart beats
in the quick
take this you might want to
keep missives that pulse
the surge and sigh of days gone
gone for a better
spinning in this
there is no motion
when the sky is cold

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