Tuesday, July 15, 2008

a quick sketch

crack me open
i'll never be 
the sultry poet 
that i want to be--

the distant figure 
in the tunnel will never be the muse--
my muse--

oh but their sound is wonderful
full of strings long
and thick

though it be i swore 
never to send another short lined letter to missing muse--


eyes tight and closed  double-over

time folds velvet over itself
pretending to be female male then female again
the perfect sex forms
made inner connects--

the ocean is in the air our tears hot summer setting

when light has left and feeling is gone

     the past will spread out 
like sheets on a line
reflecting sun tarnish

reflecting memorybirds
and touch

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