Blood on Canvas
threw everything I had
against a wall
few things I could catch
the rest I let fall
carrying around on my back
a lot of junk
few pieces I’ve got
have become inseparable
wad of papers in my pocket
note from a friend
verses written on a paycheck
coins not thrown in a fountain
throwing everything I have
against a wall
pieces shatter
into crystal
salmon consents to be eaten
oak tree signs the waiver
carrot smiles as it’s bitten
climate agrees to more changes
money luxuriates in its dirtiness
a future’s written in cursive
on a brick wall by an anarchist
with a pink gel pen
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