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
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
believing in small particles of dust
their repose
silent against absence

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