Luke 3:9

Electric explosion.

Fantastic rainbows raining down from on high.

Like a beggar stealing an apple pie from a window sill,

still shrilly shreiking,

scheming, screaming,

no, speaking softly;

a paranoid shoulder-peek from lofty

unloving pupils creak

as bloodshot eyes lurch,

searching for escape when none exists…

2 thoughts on “Luke 3:9

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