CRACK FETUS

In the age of raw love and unprotected laughter, we found this new tonic testing child's play in the urban ghettos— meadow fields where ghost flowers grew right through fertile fetal soils of cement floors of dilapidated brownstones. They'd strip their laughter naked then lay down enough blankets for me to reach the bedrock under the river needed to tunnel a birth canal through. With the world's eyes dilating in the light, They'd laugh unprotected, as I'd count down the dust sheep out of sleep.
By MARK ANTHONY THOMAS
www.markanthonythomas.com

Copyright © 2011

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