Thursday, May 20, 2010


there is surgery in lilac bushes

slab of granite turning to mush pile

dwarves with blood light faces,
electronic eyes
dancing in a gazebo of interacting flames
trickle of sperm & viscera
ascending a church tower
to slow the hands of a clock
there is nothing left to do
but to be together.

here's a tree-crotch pouring from its deeps
the lives of wasp babies

a torn white dress begging
for the ravage of all color

a woodland wedding where only ghost squirrels
the necks of best friends

attend to the duties of a ringbearer, light hung
from strands of bark peeling
the emptiness within images there is only
a space left in which to be together.

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