Wednesday, July 2, 2008

an angry sort of thing

running down out cover abound
filing down the dirty nails of past scrapings
foundling shadow creatures eating ice and air
flaring footsteps
wide open mouth--

this is not your sentiment


nor mine


lucid clacking bones twisting shoulders spitgritfire
how far horrid reflections lost
loss
liquid glass broken teeth filaments chipped porcelain skin


this is not my current device

nor yours

pouring over aggravated rocks
propping yourself up on others then lean lean lean
they lean for you
but only smooth air is left and hard edged shapes undefined
decern
believing in small particles of dust
their repose
silent against absence

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