poetry

once

a poem by jacob berg

art available @dullstyle

once there was a word and
that word was good and
once there was rain in the morning,
smoke in your hair, once there was
an island of stone and
two hundred pine years, rings
through our newborn limbs,
the old gods awoken by
idiot bells, neutral genius,
an ass starved between two bales of hay.

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only a poet. artist. theorist. i have no special talents, i am only passionately curious. www.dullstyle.ca.

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Jacob Berg

Jacob Berg

only a poet. artist. theorist. i have no special talents, i am only passionately curious. www.dullstyle.ca.

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