Monday, January 22, 2007


late at night
I watch sweat
wash ink from
skin like cloth
where I made marks

or pretend these words
were tattoos turned to scars
that might’ve locked
themselves in
when I wasn’t looking

sometimes I picture
your stare into walls
when minutes pass
but hours don’t
the plaster and sheet-rock
paint layers
of support and shelter
that would fall
from the weight
of all your ink

I wonder should
I pick up the phone
and ask you
what’s better
a bruise or a scar

what if I would wake you
from frought sleep
the thought makes me
rethink the call
instead I see us together

on a porch
on the dark
laugh and talk in
side looks and smirks
how we smoke and scoff
pretend we belong to nothing
coming out to see us
black skies go blue
just then we realize
it was purple all along

stretched and stunted are dawns
we drink the heart’s liquor
passing words like pawns
between walls
while sighs and wonder
call the whores
whispering and touching
thoughts kissed and passing
through thoughts
with power
so silent it might be dismissed
like a river moving through the
fingers you drop into it


you pass through my mind
like the air
in a hall
between high towers
where I could walk if
I could run if
I could pass the white light
of songs and obligation

beat this affliction
like it needs to be beaten
because words bleed beneath
and tonight your skin is tight
enough to change color
when it meets concrete
the river rushing into the sea
of ten million words
that would flood the earth
where you fell

-Danny Lang


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