Mud Think

I am or haven’t

Been so much on knees

In snow grabbin’

At the cold ice on my

Shins at shades of

Blue coming through

On the underneath

Of veins

Collapsing at the

Stained glass shining

Through a running

Dove against the Paine

My fave blew fog

Against and croaked

A voice like frogs

That went a sunder

Run dirt up against

The brain