Chungyen Chang
Photo: jantik
I splattered my words on shattered sky
and it felt right
ten tons of thoughts incoherent
held on and
scraped clouds with jagged fingernails
Last year I had ideas
until i realized they were all the same
some adolescent, predawn daydream
absorbed through all my tree trunk rings
the branches breaching broken glass.
One man cuts, and then another
collected, a thousand wounds
and I’m bleeding out my breath these days
skin scorched by aging sun
curling dust in orange dawn
and sometimes i think i’ll be okay
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