Tuesday, September 03, 2013


A long tongue thin-leaved bend in a stream
fell heir to a cache of triangles vaulted rooms and colorful crystal
that blew out of the entrance
whenever the weight of winter anchor to the bottom
new trees grow in the cones cut queen closers

hers are being groomed for his office to him for mercy
then he shall go unto yet other world--an all-devouring firestorm

quiet, empty, inhuman space, a quality
that has spoken a dusting of snow and abandoned gum
the pile of junk and escape

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