anti-lit

The poetry and prose of David Tolkacz.

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Wednesday, March 6, 2024

Object

 I love you like

I love the thought of death

The kind of love

That snuffs out all desire

I become a shadow

Unreal to myself and others

The specter of a snake

Chewing its own tale

I become nothing

And anyone

For you, I can eat soil

And drink the rain

This is how I become one

With the wind

I listen until I go away


Posted by David Tolkacz at 2:00 PM
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