Erik Hill

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Solitude is Breath

Solitude is breath and
In a message like full lips
His always keen smile escalates
Very hardly his people endure
He saw not and was laughed about
Talking he was the also the in the other
Haphazardly woven and built
Like drawings left lived
Or well and deriving dogs who feast
Maybe those wise ever steadfast have-nots
Much Shrewd about in papers held esteem
If they the strange the enduring ones
Have work often lazy that is and was reminiscent of built stilts
When Illustrations shook heads
They bellowed bile full and deep nothings
Too these the little attentive bees
Act as a stranger the little liked believe
The others the always ones
Which solitudes master
He says is friendly in first person
But alone in our Mothers

 

 

 

Tomorrow

Principalities expand to muster crimson secretions while
Two women whose movements coreless with abundant aspiration
Draw their mighty hands like pistols pressed
As you I and we unleashed upon dreamscapes
Watch their
Toiling
Oh baby, in isolated tantrums they make themselves manic
Pummeling their open wounds with purpose poised or
Rolling the strenuous landscape explored by their digits
And her two fingers like a nod for then and again
She receiving her gifts guided by eyes
Whaling her
Toiling
groaning again in leaked forums beyond day less weeks in turn
They imbibe their coughing organic liqueurs
While we jam gifts against the crown of their apertures
She and her-clammy brow and lowered face
I to you and so we
Toil
And try
To taste
Tomorrow.