Halved by prisms, the multiple
cacophonies of need, a river, swells, above sound are the
favors of one slight puff, some 30 years his junior.
A jar. Rain & saliva become
snakes. Snakes
suggest ear plugs at night --
New York City
blossoming. O wide wind seers, cirrus-drafts of curving
mea culpa. What was I doing trapped
at the edge of the world? On Maarifa Street, children dream of a new
earth & the earth which forces it to freedom, the tongue of
heels ascending a ladder.
6.18.2009
Cento from Realpoetik & Linebreak
Posted by sdw at 10:39:00 AM
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment