Poems from Lex Duvall
My mind is a stream, blocked with muck
I grab handfuls when I must, throwing them onto the bank
Stress and worry, pain and even happiness...
Sleep muffles me, it’s like thinking through cotton
The air fills with burning gold, the ruddy sky blooming
“Why must I do this?” I think...
The sky still whispers
In slowly moving slumber
Falling, I listen