Carved out of nothing,
a thing with no tongue
is ripped out of absence,
sealed in a cell.
Hell may now enter:
Category: Dark
Luftmenschen #2, Poetry by LJ Kessels
An empty forest, filled with spurs, steam coming from a gully and a
burning barge on the bayou. Cocaine lines on a cigar-tugging chest;
dirty feet on the plastic covered couch.
WILDsound Festival 