Near the end of dreams

It’s a violent night

sitting here on the rump of the ancient mastodon.

The shards of broken earth strike the moon

in great numbers as their arcs are intersected.

The cockroach king in his vaulted  subterranean throne room

laughs with his concubines and his billion children

while he has allowed me to be banished to this low hill.

As I dream my last, my solace is this:

When I die, my dirt will be closer to the sun than his.



About Eric Kovach

Spiraling out of control~~~~~~o
This entry was posted in Poetry, Writing and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Near the end of dreams

  1. j.h. white says:

    Wow….apocalyptic fairy tale.

  2. just appallingly beautiful.

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