Oppenheimer Maps His Coordinates By Cynthia Lowen After so much time in the desert Im always finding myself at water. The blue and bloated little men Point to the back if my head and warn, You have no friends on that shore. I collect them in a net and probe them, my little cadavers. Little brains, little hearts. Mine-and cute, like the jarred fetal pig in biology class. I made these. They call me father. SIX DAYS UNTIL THIS GENIUS READS POEMS AT GREENLIGHT BOOKSTORE!
Posted on: Thu, 16 Jan 2014 20:23:11 +0000
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