Chains

Deaf hands knit a screaming dream.
Dream a lot and randomly create.
Create a mind-site to build upon.
Upon a stone sharpen your wits.
Wits flutter in brain-boxes.
Boxes stack the air in sealed garages.
Garages open to let a dashboard Jesus out.
Out of the tomb, daylight-time is saved.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2022

Poem

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