Unrelated Thoughts

Poems that are not in The End of the Word as We Know It, by Wes Unruh

son awakens every dawn

my son awakens every dawn

there is a madness every father
in all worlds feels
in the moments of preparation

guard against the wilds
the buildings, the edges

motherfucking fringes
the wedges – sadness, and
passages… tainted

we build neon salisbury steak
sinister concoction, bbq forgotten

plastic moats and vertical castles:
we seal purgatory at the gate

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