Sunday, August 8, 2010

45*21

in the channels
where we swim
the delight is too great
it breaks and makes us
There are no ones
though we'd like to think they are
behind swollen eyes
a caterpillar eating leaves
We leave ourselves to sleep
There is only splendor in that
which we know is real
He'll stay up until he falls deep
into the lather
Why question the things we know?
These are the insides rearrange the outsides
until we slide
from bush to bush
You are no different from plant
The ingredients the same
when looking deep
into death's pool

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