Field Agent

FIELD AGENT

Patch me through, it’s Jesús
Both hands are on the twelve

Patch me through I beg you
Comuníqueme con el distrito principal

Patch me through unspoken
Time to be here’s been and gone

Patch me through regardless
Dank, adrift and sinking fast

Patch me through for God’s sake
Pick up Mary-Jane on your way

About Ben Naga

The Spirit that graces me with its passing has no name and stems not from thoughts and words, though it gathers them up as it flows, but from feeling.

Posted on August 5, 2020, in Poetry and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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