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Poetry & art by Rob Plath

tug the threads

i think it's quite
the opposite 
yr eyes
are sewn shut 
not after yr death 
by the mortician 
but at birth 
as soon you
cross the lip
of the womb
& most never 
undo the sutures 
in this life 
they just run around
w/ their eyes
stitched up
like a cadaver 
maybe one day
they’ll tug the threads
out of their lids
& really see
but it’ll be too late
as that other
dark lid closes forever
& the soil rains down
upon them 
 
Z
Picture
Picture
anthills

yr heel may smash
the ant today

but one day
their ancestors
will build
tiny hills above
yr grave

& they will move
beneath the sun

& yr meaningless
monuments
Picture
Picture

Picture
Rob Plath has saturated the underground literary scene with his writing for the past 25 years. He is the author of A BELLYFUL OF ANARCHY, THERE’S A FIST DUNKED IN BLOOD BEATING IN MY CHEST,​ DEATH IS DEAD, HEARTS FOR BRAINS, AN AX FOR THE FROZEN SEA, THE SKELETON SUTRAS and many more. He lives in New York with his cat Daisy and is a vegan. Check out his website at www.robplath.com.

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