Tuesday, February 06, 2007

wal in low hale

there is not enough
order in this house

the scored skin
the plug in limb

she scatters me

like a petals
from a stemmed vein

snow under the dim
gaze of flak stars

the air breathing

steel street stamps

make the night unwhale

freight train
billow brain

I am a too long hand saint
I crash myself down
around the edges
pretend all I feel is real

she chumps me
and I slow change


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