Ancient man is in me. I see his starry night.
I hear him call. Feel him shiver. Wait for light.
He gathers food. Seeks a hand to touch.
Looks out from the precipice.
Dreams his waking dream.
A few ripe berries.
Finger stains.
Computer keys.
.
[ 1786 ]
Categories: Sour Honey
Tags: Ancient Man, Berries, Computers, Dreams, Fingers, Food, Hands, Light, Night, Stars, The Precipice
William Michaelian 