Sunday, August 22, 2010


fruit-meat, saddled with ashes,
where do you go to droop
your velvet antlers,
where do you go to droop
your head on the woodpile,
we can get away with anything,
where do you go to bury
your leavings, where do you go
to dump your blood on this earth,

you were travelling, in a song, in a song
with backgrounds slipping
down the walls of interterrestrial time,
wallpaper of eyelashes, beloved,
stung by yellowjackets
in the horror of a light rain,
touch the beauty eat it out of the air,
to your right side the sea,
to your left side the sea,
letting the death ahead in vapor
blend into the movie,
blend crimson into the mirror,
the element of randomness
in a human face, the element
of strangeness toward all being,
the eyes a closed cabinet,
the eyes whole tunnels between rivers,
going blind to feel the all-seeing

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