Looking Through The Peephole. By DAH

This is half of my body

a sack of bones

a thousand dead breaths 

up to my neck in earth

sleep comes like dying birds 

I’m looking through the peephole 

of everyone passed-on 

stripped down to darkness

lying on scabby backs 

like rocks marking boundaries 

The entire world is plastic

and hurting

and up to its neck in filth 

and the temples are cracking

one by one, and the sky

will be nearly naked 

with only rusted planets 

like serious witchcraft

and before they make the gates

there will be zillions of souls

burnt to dust  

Then, a watery splash, and evolution

comes again

and for everything 

new figures, born and raised 

will be crawling to the shores 

DAH is a multiple Pushcart Prize and Best Of The Net nominee, and the lead
editor for the poetry critique group, The Lounge. The author of nine books of
poetry, DAH lives in Berkeley, California, and has been teaching yoga to children
in public and private schools since 2005. He is working on his tenth poetry book,
which is due for release in September 2020, from Clare Songbirds Press.   

visit: www.dahlusion.wordpress.com