Monday, August 19, 2013


Life that evaporates into shadowburn
which even my dearest friends are afraid to watch.
Life that must lie down there, and there, and there,
because it tasted train-cars of light
through the mouth.  If you feel cornered
by a love, cry out, I will answer you.
Tendril of city brightness that arcs in its targeting
into a farmed backyard
where vines form with great speed,
haul me up to a window,
I will slide down acres of glass,

Where the stream's power lands
on a rut and smooths it, blood will be laughing.
Where ice supernatural
girds bridges of summer, droplets will choir onto
tongues that burst buds of the eye,
sacred violence to come into existence.

The founding of metal leaves
mirrors trees from the edges
burnt factory bricks eyelash cast
them all back to water.
It keeps flowing to the sea;
it is not inventive.

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