Eros always hurls His arrows at my Head all day and night. But that’s just fine with me—
Raise Hell
There’re people in the steeple
The window’s open, Ben.Listen to the birds.Does it sound like they’re worriedMother will kick them out of the tree?Or off of the Earth?Will She doom you to die?Will She punish you, Benji?As long as you try?
a poem about conquest and guns
