Shannon Ongaro: The Story of Beneath Eyelids

Fall '12 TOC

molten days and trees
the ancients wander in feathered cloaks
heads dipped in prayer

the sky seeps a brew
of blood and jungle heat
as if aware of its own weight

holy folks
resting here
just beneath
my eyelids

they roamed those old red days and
they roam these days
with me

the journey across my iris
shorter than before
to sweet repose
inside the well of tears


Not Enough Night
Not Enough Night
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