.
succedaneum
it is dark outside, like the rain
the soft rain in january,
stripping the snow of its white.
there is a loophole somewhere,
with the rain and with the right,
a loophole or a noose,
your pick.
i am the womb in your pillow,
i gather your dust and save it
for a sunny day; if i blow softly
in a ray we can pretend it is gold.
but we let our bodies fade into masses
and i haven't weathered the dough.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
appel à la terre;
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Thursday, January 14, 2010
three avocados and a handful of satin;
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
oil & water;
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