spinning around
in square cut cotton grounds
i can’t see
not a single speck or fleck
nothing gets through these dry slabs
the little rays of light
stuck at the border of 1929
they long to see
what is here in a night
if they knew
they could see too
a pen was found
by the traveler who
had a small blue lantern
just like mine
so i could see
the name of the beast
as i write it down
“you mother fucking cow”
