CL Bledsoe – roads

CL Bledsoe


The Interstate is the Trail of Tears for intellectu al (l) (s)
I mean to say is that I need one more     day

light fades up like a radio coming into r     ange
r is justified       they’re draining the dregs of my cup of sor     row

for shore       find help     send them back with chocodi (the) les
s said by us the easier it is for them to hear the stock (the) bell

e of the farm doesn’t scream she udder     s
ophists sop soup with sow’s ears so they (’re) (slurp)

not like us they don’t feel we’ve an ocean inside      they’re     empty
your mind of desire       except for that blond with the massive tee     tas

te the wind and you’ve licked a sigh       taste the rain and you’ve tongued God’s     thighs
lead us like road signs        first: one way      then: pass with     care

for the lesser things of the Earth       the plants       the animals       the roads
we need are not printed on any maps       unless you have one of those previously
       unprinted roads maps.

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