Image source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Josef_%C4%8Capek_-_Ve_slunci_(Proch%C3%A1zka_zlat%C3%A1_cesta,_1935).jpg
When the sun clicks into place and miraculous sparrows peck at icicles and the children let the dew erase their slates then the clocks will drain themselves of infection and we will utter stones in the black light and you will shelter my nakedness under the wings of your mouth and the wind will be our water and the sky will be our bread ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Please note that I never have used and never will use AI to compose or revise any of my writings. A random comment on poetry in general: If all art is political, then there is no point in trying to create political art.
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