Thursday, May 02, 2013


The rain machines are six stories tall.
There are claws in the air,
the architecture is suffering.
Helicopters are for entertainment.

Women are to run, men are to run,
pulling them by willing arms,
fire is for destiny, fire is the true nature of the world

Childhood is an urchin
splattered in a foggy rock.
Churches are leaning all around it.

Nothing is falling into the pit, yet.

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