Tuesday, October 29, 2013


Careening to heights, dizzy with rapture, I try
to pull all the aching eyes into it with me;
surprised at how much shows up,
in the radar of my chances.

This is the glinting scrap-mountain
of discarded dreams, where another vision
can still be assembled, painstakingly atop
with a wide bell, and a feather pen
with an electronic heart,
ringing from the anus to the tips of the eyes.

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