Revisionist Poetry – “Hymn of the Heap” – Beautiful Detritus, v.4 (Dylanesque)
Winter loosens its grip on the gate,lets the snow slide off like a bad alibi.The ground coughs up its old confessions—knotted string, a split glove, last year’s lie. There’s a tangle of jute in the belly of the bed,leaf bones rattling their thin, dry prayer,a rusted hook humming to the worms,like it still remembers holding something fair.

Revisionist Poetry – “Hymn of the Heap” – Beautiful Detritus, v.4 (Dylanesque)
Winter loosens its grip on the gate,lets the snow slide off like a bad alibi.The ground coughs up its old confessions—knotted string, a split glove, last year’s lie. There’s a tangle of jute in the…








