Poetry by Oguns Peter ♥ Art by William Shenewolf

more than ever

i wish the smell of water

would obey the language of cartography?

for night comes and ragged doors

open to a road where trees burn

from the top leaving their roots

to grow

into a body

dreaming and drowning

each time

the skin of the sky

spread faded faces

STREET BLUES III

perhaps the sun never told you

of the secret life

of a dog   dying many times

whenever it coughs the word

love