Saturday, January 20, 2007


If I had one
One sallow billow of
Dredge and smoke

This is fingers on the glass.

One hail
Of fire of hope

It would be I didn't spend enough
Crouching minutes
Crowded by your hands

This tasking split
A muted attempt
And screened

Flavored shrill
Shuttered night and
Silk fracture

We are the anatomy
Of the groove

These are the green glimpses sunlit on a swirl print we fall through.

One more time
I’d curve the caverns
Of your callous

Mine the rain drops
From the sky

(snow photo by AJ Ward)


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