Poems

I Will Become a Traveller Again

I will become a traveller again.
My boots laced up,
I will let my nails go uncut
I will let my chin sprout a bush of hair – 
like the immensity of these mornings
that stand between me and a beautiful death.

As I near my beautiful death
I will wander among faces 
like a homesick pilgrim,
like a bird falling from the nth tree of the world
as the last star sets
in a basket of apples – 
there, early one morning.

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