miller, bukowski, rumi

Miller, Bukowski, Rumi

There’s a
rough &
tumble triadic
godhead worth
tapping into.

 

They rise
on the
wind &
blow thru
the wasteland
like
dust devils.

 

They unleash
freedom like
a kennel of
baying hounds.

 

They shatter
the rhythm
of our
drum corps
lives.

 

They turn
Moloch’s
dark ogres
into stone.

 

They promise
nothing.

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