We be the spirits of the mountains, extending our fingertips to the edge of the exosphere, reconnecting with galactic fingertips. The earth gives us up & we crumble in its fist until we reach our last tectonic rift until we’re nothing but
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Thomas Kneeland Poetry to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.