Between sighs, the skin heaving,
apropos and weaving.
Intrinsic course, skin’s river flowing.
One unto another in morning or at evening,
with shadows in the mind concealing
other shadows. At last, the fault lines grimacing
and contorting as the molten center
gurgles, pushes, approves.
Promulgate the lyric jelly, harsher mistress,
and enfold me in your sway.
-r. miller
*Insert Propaganda Here* 