Sunday, January 30, 2011

sitting in o.m.h. after much math and a short walk to the canal

The Seattle night sky's polluted purple
haze makes the ship canal seem
illuminated from below.

Birds perched in branches overhead
shit in the water,
sleep, and pause
to consider the rest of the journey north
instead of the wounds still bleeding -
blasted by the barrels of
farmer's rifles, shotguns, whatever they had around to shoot.

They never knew each other.

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