Wednesday, February 19, 2014

    taken by a gliding feeling,        reeling in a lot

       ass on a stump of years spreading               chained open

            every tank of light is closed off       by     lashes of money

hurt the self, fall on a wire      new to the only sun          the dripping of

 blood on glass     the singed piano     striking up the rhythm of the floor tiles

        taken by a striped and impenetrable feeling,      hands on a long row of metal carts

 for the money that wafts from the sky      for those who lovingly control it

   for the chlorine grin at the pharmacy counter telling a lie to the air

 sting the self's shadow, taste its resemblance          fall down in the depths of

     grandma's garden

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