I write surreal poetry inspired by the natural world and many small, strange memories.
The silverfish lays her eggs where the blue walls meet As chitin-hardened feel hike the hardwood floors Below door frames, alight with dust woven webs
By Madison Branch5 years ago in Poets
From the domed ceiling, flows a mass of white stone In the home of the under-creatures, a watchtower forms Above a city, a sovereignty, shielded still from the eyes of man
The mountain lord ascends the slopes, agile as a ram Fearful as a landslide, springing from the ground Leaping from the hillside, to peaks, to lower roads