CL Bledsoe
roads
The Interstate is the Trail of Tears for intellectu al (l) (s)
I mean to say is that I need one more daylight fades up like a radio coming into r ange
r is justified they’re draining the dregs of my cup of sor rowfor shore find help send them back with chocodi (the) les
s said by us the easier it is for them to hear the stock (the) belle of the farm doesn’t scream she udder s
ophists sop soup with sow’s ears so they (’re) (slurp)not like us they don’t feel we’ve an ocean inside they’re empty
your mind of desire except for that blond with the massive tee taste the wind and you’ve licked a sigh taste the rain and you’ve tongued God’s thighs
lead us like road signs first: one way then: pass with carefor the lesser things of the Earth the plants the animals the roads
we need are not printed on any maps unless you have one of those previously
unprinted roads maps.