What StrAnge Liberty does Love TaKe?

Greenby Damien W. Green23 Jun 2014

Again, perhaps for the final time, I have
been cast out from the Queens salty den/

To forage alone in a forest of violent silence
where every day is an inch, every inch is a nail/

How many graves must a man dig before
he finds the right one in which to spill/

The pistil seeks to pluck the petals apart, yet
even the hen doesn’t hatch one so clever/

[And just deep enough to draw the King’s ire]

Perhaps one day I will quell the cries of her
suffering bird + she will fly on wings of sorrow/

Until then, I wander + see only through the
darkened lens of my own suffering countenance +
plant my seeds in empty furrows laden with frost/