Another Dream Poem

Juice of the Weedy Man

I could see death

away up the road

leaping from stalled car

to stalled car

like a tiger

hunting.

No way to shout,

to make a connection.

The Weedy Man was coming with berries and decay.

This entry was posted in Being Human, Check this out, dangerous creatures, Dreamtime, Geographies of Death, mindworks, poetry, visions from the dark side and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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