Ross Brighton

Poem I’m finding it is air (thin) twig twist over skin under light under air thinks thick things this post-depravity is alldown andand citrus OUTfall falls out dustygulllet OH! mourn full furl moonfall I move crossways to ourselves “what do you mean? birds come out of bodies all the time” It takes little preparation to be a living bullet wedged before It is impossible to tell you everything I don’t understand I want to slow the pace to a crawl searching pick up all the little broken things the wind is full of un-wind it spooling spooling spools of bloodwater“Ross Brighton”

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Ross Brighton

excerpts from Birds a nervous disposition birds of television low action poised naught attrition the bounds                              (cloaked) generally dark dawn a priest an action movement rocks side a region of me face sunning whistle (little)       radiance globe       set              far a rebel of late bride brought into the open and taught the son of the polite season quite difficult to ignore the ventriloquists seen from distance tour tür to err till earth to until place palace       boulder              groan fell tower falter              (groat) greet loam flow antenna err   as   if in                     (dream) mute cut oft timothy to clover gloam linen quilt while rushes need red bright incessant faced       the dress heart on this“Ross Brighton”

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