the Written Gun


Nothing more colorful than, a gray flannel day.

Blistering winds with more shine than a lucky penny.

A spring Nor’easter.

A gathering of the personal army.

Crossing drawn lines in soiled, slush.

Gathering all visionary perseverance into a tight bun.

The loose ends of the earth our mine to own…

Under the written gun.

flannel 2flannel 1flannel 4

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