Monday, August 19, 2013


The white marble of distance is on our fingertips
the leopard skin of wild sleep
and the destruction of diamonds
to give way to flesh
its pathways of dying light
peeling stalks of ancient trees
turning chalky deposits
back to sap of pain, ooze of life
dripping willow tresses reborn
from darkened cities, rotting parks
our long bed lit between us like a bridge

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