i’ve fallen from the capitol
let the government of the I
do as it will.
i’m for the little things anyhow
those few moments of clarity
the small truths
that come in the late hours
the early too
pruned from flowered darkness
plucked from buds too young
to bloom alone
sachrine sap sliding stick along
tracing cherished chants
in a language i almost wish i didn’t know.
tonight i wish i could feed them to you
little truths
grapes from the vine
but i feel culled and empty
wasteland-cracked
parched
