Sunday, October 08, 2006

16 with a bullet

sixteen joy and hanging
shoes black skies and white ties
old membranes she´s retaking her sames,
redoing innumerable rays
an assortment of softly woven lies
richly treacherous bland pies & organic, messianic stems
he took the glass of water in his left hand and raised it to his lips
it has was might
the cards of eliot and his drowning pebbles
never to arise again, my frenzied companion

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